#yes i felt quite clever after coming up with that title

[tratatdragonlord]

Ideal or the Real?

ost

[brisbookmark]

My Lord - Osferth x F!Reader (18+)

Gif from daily tlk

✧ A Book!Osferth x fem!reader because I found out he becomes a lord in the books and I will never shut up

✧ Word count: 1k

Contains: lap sitting, thigh grinding/riding, overstimulation, pet names, fingering, no penetration, choking with a chain, book Osferth is a cocky tease

“Lord Osferth,” she cooed, letting the title roll smoothly off her tongue. His cheeks reddened even more, but his confidence did not falter as he secured two strong arms around her waist and held her on his lap, lifting the edge of her dress up to the top of her thighs.

“My lady,” he breathed, leaning back into his new chair. He was now the Commander, a lord of Burnanburgh, and his woman would not let him forget it.

“Lord Osferth,” she whispered again, soft fingertips trailing his bottom lip. The ex monk let out a small moan, letting his hands dig into the naked flesh of her thighs. “It sounds quite nice doesn't it?” She asked, readjusting herself on top of him, innocently glancing at him as she brushed above his clothed cock.

He was already stiff.

“Now that you, you say it like that..” Osferth answered, pulling her hips back into him with a large hand. “I suppose it sounds better coming from your..” he paused to press a long passionate kiss to her mouth, “sweet..” and another.. “lips.” He let himself indulge until his head was light, giving the gentlest of kisses and bites, massaging her tongue with his own.

Already she had started softly grinding into him, thighs clenching and her wetness pooling onto his pants.

“Are you already wet?” He asked, sliding his hand from her hips to between her thighs, and he let out a shuddery groan as his fingers became immediately coated. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he teased, running them up and down her folds oh so slowly.

“Osferth,” she whined, bucking into his hand just once before he held her still.

He smiled gently up at her, moving to kiss under her ear, his warm breath tickling at the hairs on her neck. “What happened to that sweet title?” Osferth asked, biting on the lobe of her ear and enjoying how she started to shiver under his touch.

“I’m sorry my lord,” his woman sputtered out, using one hand to grab at the cross on his chest as if it were her lifeline.

Osferth felt a chill run up his spine at the word, or perhaps it was the cold chain of his cross moving under his collar as she deliciously pulled on it. “Good girl,” he tutted, tapping her nose gently with a finger, “My clever girl.”

His pride soared as he felt her cunt tighten against his leg, her breathing turning into soft pants. The ex monk took a chance to lift her slightly, moving his cloth up, leaving just his thin pants between them. He slowly flexed his thigh, moving his lover so she might straddle it, letting her explore the new friction on her own.

Fearing he might cum too soon, Osferth held her still again. She grabbed harder at his chain, pulling him forward to take his lips- biting and sucking and savoring his sweet taste. It dug so wonderfully into his neck- the more desperate she had become the harder she gripped the cross pendant, always unknowingly tugging too hard.

He found out well enough that he liked to be choked by her. Consciously or not.

“Darling..” Osferth cooed, giving himself a chance to breathe after her assault, “Will you be telling me what to do or can I have my fun?” He asked, cupping the back of her head and flexing his strong thigh again under him, smiling as she adjusted her hips once more and cool air blew on the wetness she had left.

The poor thing couldn’t speak. She was so lost in grinding against that spot on his leg, kissing away her moans into his skin now that he has denied her his lips.

He used his fingers to gently brush her clit, and she jolted- now looking him in the eyes. “Did you hear my question, darling?”

His lady nodded, biting at her lower lip now. Osferth shrugged, pressing his calloused thumb onto her clit again. “Guess I’ll have my fun..” He muttered nonchalantly, looking into her eyes with a softened gaze. “You want to have some fun with me?” He asks so innocently, ignoring the guttural moan that came from his lover, and the way she gripped into his shoulders for balance.

Rocking herself against his hard muscle, she mewls as that sensitive bud catches on the rough fabric of his pants, head falling forward into his shoulder. Osferth grips her and guides her up and down his thigh, flexing just right as her cunt passes over him.

Her fingers are tight on his shoulders now, her cheeks flushed. “Do it… do it again..” his lover whines, and Osferth feels his cock leak just a bit more.

“Do what?” The man asks teasingly, rubbing at her clit with two fast fingers.

Quick, muffled moans fall from lips, but he can hear the simple “Not that.”

“Tell me then darling, tell me,” he coaxes, his face full of faux concern. Just as she’s about to answer he drags her cunt roughly again, tightening the muscles as she goes.

This time her moans are much louder.

“Good girl,” he whispers again, and she clenched around nothing. “Don’t be scared to let out those sweet noises my dear, I want to hear them.”

He continues his motions again, quickening his hand until she’s stammering and her eyes go up to the ceiling. She’s shaking like a baby deer in his lap, desperately grinding more into his hand.

With a loud moan she finally cums, spilling out onto his fingers, still tightening her cunt around emptiness. It throbs almost painfully, and as he touches her clit again she bucks away from his hand from the overstimulation.

“My dear we’re just getting started,” Osferth teases, but nonetheless removes his hand to hold her gently on him. He brushes her hair behind her ears delicately, planting a soft kiss to her lips. He can tell her mind is still reeling as her eyes flit around, finally closing at the feel of his soft kiss. “Shh dearest, I’ve got you,” he whispers.

He looks around at the dying candles of his hall, and he readjusts himself on his chair. No one was to be expected until the morning.

Osferth smiles, kissing his lady once more, a tickling hand running up her thigh.

They’re in for a long night.

[deepfivetraveller]

Moriarty the patriot x Sick!Child!reader. Chapter 1 (Platonic)

Chapter 2 here

The MI6 could only gather little information about them since they were new to the circle of rich aristocrats.

The Quinn family owned luxurious hotels whose popularity and income just went above the roof, which is surprising since they’ve only been in the industry for a few years. Due to this, they were suspected of smuggling drugs across countries. Only problem was that the military had no evidence. Albert was instructed to check the family out, but since he had to do some preparations on ‘The final problem’ William decided to go instead.

As the carriage stopped, William turned towards the window and saw a large mansion. It had british architecture and was lavishly decorated in the family’s signature colour purple.

 He was greeted by the master and mistress of the family as he exited the carriage. “Welcome Mr Moriarty it’s finally good to meet you.” Richard Quinn says this as he shakes William’s hand a little too vigorously. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too Mr Quinn.” He replies. “Please come in. We have prepared some special Darjeeling tea just for you.” Elisabeth Quinn motions him towards the garden of the estate. After that all three engage in small talk to which William could only pretend to like. Eventually, a topic peaked his interest. “Yes,yes our daughter too has the same habit.”

“Daughter? You both have a daughter?” William sips tea from his cup. “Yes,we just adopted her a few days ago.” She slices her cake with more force than needed creating an unpleasant cling sound. “She is still adapting to her surroundings so we didn’t bring her here.” she continues. William too was once an adopted kid and yes, it does take time to adapt but he started to get a bit suspicious of them.

"Is it possible for me to meet her personally?"

The couple both look at each other after William says this. “Sure. Let me lead you to her.” Richard gets up from his chair and so does William. While walking, Mr Quinn says “Our daughter has a medical condition due to which she cannot talk much, so please don’t force her to talk.” he nodded and kept this point in mind. A mute child is perfect if the parents want to keep a secret from society.

After a few minutes of walking they both enter a grand library.The shelves were made from a wood of dark colour possibly walnut or teak. All the books there were binded by some sort of luxurious leather. After going in a little deeper William sees a small girl sitting on the table copying something from a book. Richard whispers “I’ll introduce you to her and then leave you alone.”

William nods again and both of them come up to you. “Y/n?” Mr Quinn taps on the table. You immediately stop writing and look at both of them. “This is our guest Mr William James Moriarty.” He points at William. “I’m going to leave both of you alone now.”

After Mr Quinn leaves William sits next to you. “Like your father said, My name is William. What’s yours?” He felt a bit guilty making you talk in your condition but for the sake of the mission some things need to be done.

You take a bunch of flash cards connected to a flash card ring. You flip to a page with you name on it and show it to him. Clever. “Y/n. What a lovely name. How are you adjusting to your new life?” He  turns slightly towards you. You immediately flip to an empty card and write ‘It’s going alright.’

He notices this was not a direct reply to his question. Either you don’t have much to say or you were threatened by your parents. Though he does try to eliminate the second option since you are wearing a luxurious dress. Nevertheless he still doubts.

“I see.” He leans onto the table.

“Are you happy with your new life?” He enquires. You write ‘Yes I’m quite content with my life.’ He smiles and then looks at what you were reading. “On the Origin of species…” he reads the title out loud. He also looks at the notes you were writing and sees the key points of the book written neatly.

“You should explore other parts of science as well. Why don’t we try to find  other books on physics and chemistry here?” He gets up and extends his arm. In reply, you hold his hand.

“Can you take me to the science section?” You nod to his question and take him there

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Yes, yes, maybe…no.” William picks a few books and takes them in and out of the shelf. All the books he thought were suitable to read were given to you to hold. “That’s about it.” he turns towards you. “Let’s go back and sit down.” He takes the books from you and carries them.

“Thank you.” This is the first time you spoke to him. He didn’t know what you were thanking for, maybe for holding the books, maybe for helping you select books or maybe for something else. But more importantly he was taken aback by your voice. Your voice did crack a bit due to your lack of talking, but in his ears they were melodious; like  crunchy sweet.

Suddenly the clock chimes, an indication that it is now evening. “Oh my, time went by fast. It seems it’s time for me to go now.” he replies. He kept the books on a small wooden chair but when he was about to leave you grab onto his sleeve. He could see you mouthing ‘Don’t leave’.

“Why?” he questions. You slowly take back your hand from his sleeve and mouth him ‘Sorry’. William kneels down to your level, expecting you to say a reason for your action.

‘The first person to not make fun of me is you.’ he frowns as he looks at your card. “What about your parents?” he inquired. ‘Well they aren’t mean to me but that doesn’t mean that they are kind.’ you’re hesitant to show this card and he can tell.

He tries to calm you down by patting your head and to some extent, it works. “Don’t worry,” he reassured. “I’ll take care of this.”   “But how?” You questioned back. “That…” He gets up and looks at you. “Is my problem. You just relax” He tilts his head as a sign of respect and leaves the room, leaving you a bit confused and dumbfounded.

[sah-headcanons]

Well, I wasn't quite sure where to put this...

But I do have some OCs that I want to share with the world for a story that is in progress. Without giving too much away, the backstory for all of these characters is that they are otters, arrested by Flower Hill because they were confused as potential weasel spies. Now all of them are currently stuck in a Flower Hill POW facility and no one is happy about it. Here they are in no particular order. (Yes these are piccrew images, I can not draw.)

Name: River

Age: 25 at arrest

Gender: Male

Reason for being in Flower Hill: He's a fish farmer who wanted to establish a trade connection with some hatcheries in Flower Hill that had unique species of fish.

Reason for being arrested: He was in the wrong place at the wrong time...there was a weasel spy in the village he was staying at who had left just a few hours before and when he was spotted, the officers assumed this had to be the spy they were informed of.

Personality: River is a very quiet sort of otter, one who tends to spend a lot of time thinking. He's also very empathetic, to the point that those who don't know him would be forgiven for assuming he could read minds.

Opinion on the war: He doesn't know a whole lot about the war and as such has no feelings towards Flower Hill or Black Rock or Wolves Den.

Name: Inlet

Age: 28 at arrest

Gender: Genderfluid (shifts between male and female)

Reason for being in Flower Hill: Inlet was on his way back from a vacation in Frog Village, and Flower Hill just so happened to be a stop along the way.

Reason for being arrested: Unfortunately for Inlet, her passport photo didn't match her appearance as she was feeling quite feminine that day. It was assumed that his feminine appearance was some sort of disguise and he was consequently arrested.

Personality: Very sarcastic and passive-aggressive towards anyone she doesn't like. Very sweet and charming towards anyone he does. She likes to believe she's very clever but has yet to come up with a plan to get anyone out of the facility.

Opinions about the war: She was sympathetic towards Flower Hill, as they were the ones initially attacked. His views have since shifted quite a bit.

Name: Ocean Breeze

Age: 35 at arrest

Gender: Male

Reason for being in Flower Hill: Ocean was in a fishing boat that capsized and just so happened to wash up on the shores of Flower Hill after being lost at sea for weeks.

Reason for being arrested: Unfortunately, the officers in the town were on high alert due to reports of spy activity, thought that his story was rather suspicious, and ended up arresting him when he came to them for help.

Personality: Ocean is very family-motivated, with a wife and several children waiting for him in Otter Village. This has, consequently, made him fucking pissed. About being capsized, about being arrested, about being trapped in Flower Hill...he has a tendency to be physically violent with the guards and anyone he perceives as a threat, which has not earned him any favors in captivity.

Opinions about the war: He may not be thrilled about being held captive in Flower Hill, but he absolutely places the blame squarely on Black Rock, mostly the weasels, for starting the war to begin with. It's easy for him to understand going too far to protect one's family and community so he can relate to Flower Hill on that level, if nothing else.

Name: Ren Sudal (Ren is a title similar to "rector")

Age: 42 at arrest

Gender: Male

Reason for being in Flower Hill: Sudal is a devout pastor of the otter's faith system and had gone to Flower Hill to assist with reparation efforts for those affected by the war.

Reason for being arrested: A spy for Black Rock had come to Sudal, asking for his assistance in getting away from Flower Hill. The tenets of his faith meant that he felt obligated to provide help to anyone who earnestly asked for it. When his assistance was discovered, he was arrested for aiding and abetting the spy's escape.

Personality: Sudal tends to remain calm and stoic. He's a big believer that one must be patient to resolve an issue, and he's not about to do anything rash that would get him or his fellow otters into deeper trouble. He also firmly believes that karma has a funny way of catching up to just about anyone who's earned it.

Opinions about the war: Sudal is mostly neutral, believing that individuals need to be judged based on the merits of their own actions. Thus he avoids jumping to conclusions about anyone based on which "side" they are affiliated with.

Let me know if you have any questions about otters, these characters, or my AU in general.

[why-what-no]

The Corinthian Having Feelings For A Trans Serial Killer Would Include

Pairing: The Corinthian x Trans Man!Murderer!Reader

Warnings: Murder, Transphobia

Notes: Can’t believe this is an actually title btw. (For the record, this was requested. I did not wake up this morning and decide that trans people are serial killers. That's a JKR thing). Also, I asked my friend to help me with this, because they’re trans and I’m not. If you have Wattpad, they write there as “disastrousicarus”. So go support them, they’re great.

Requested by: @logan-strong (yes my dude,requests are open and I don’t have rules about not double requesting. Its fine if people request multiple times, idc.)

The Corinthian met you at the serial killer convention, quickly intrigued.

It was a fairly exciting day for you, having been directly inspired by his criminal acts.

The two of you started talking, and the Corinthian was glad to see that you were al fairly interesting conversation partner.

Most of the other people here kinda irritated him, with their fawning and superiority complexes. But you were funny, and clever.

He would have spent more time with you if it wasn't for him spotting an intruder in his midsts.

There was almost some regret felt by him for leaving you. He didn't want to abandon your conversation, but he couldn't let this guy walk around the convention freely.

The Corinthian returned and found you right after it was dealt with. But when he saw you again, you were surrounded by a couple of other killers.

At first, he assumed they were friends of yours. But upon getting closer, he heard some less than decent things coming out of their mouths.

He personally didn’t quite understand why humans were so offended by other humans for something like gender. It seemed so useless to him.

But when they called you something that he knew was offensive, he prepared to step in.

“Hey there, my friends.” His smile was wide and ruthless, teeth bared and prepared for a fight. “You know, this guy is a friend of mine. If you’ve got a problem with him, you talk to me.”

The serial killers looked like they were about to speak back to him. But when they saw the name tag on his jacket, they paled. A mess of excuses left their mouths as they scurried off.

“Thanks.” You sighed, running a hand over your head.

He smiled, sitting down next to you and raising his hand to order a drink. “Don’t mention it. They should be glad you aren’t allowed to kill ‘em here.”

“Yeah. Got into this business to deal with people like this, but it ends up half the people I work with are like this.”

“Yeah.” He supposed that serial killers weren’t exactly the greatest people. “You know, it’s fair game after the convention. You and I should deal with them afterwards.”

You looked at him sideways, a smile beginning to appear on your face as you observed him. “Oh yeah? Then what?”

His grin was infection. The way he acted, the confidence, was awe-inspiring. “Then, then we go back to work. Together, if you want?”

You couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that the gorgeous man you looked up to wanted you by his side. “For real?”

“Completely real.” He had so many plans about what the two of you would do.

You guys would be invincible.

[lycanlovingvampyre]

MAG 154 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: apple cutting + sitting thrilled on the couch.

Ah yes, I remember it so clearly when I heard that episode the first time. I was almost done cutting apples, but I didn't quite feel satisfied after MAG 152 and 153, those are statement that were a bit subtle for me. So I thought "Okay, I'll give one more episode a shot" (even though the episode title didn't sound particularly interest-piquing) and then it’s a Gertrude tape and I had some problems following a lot of Gertrude statements before, I don't know, her voice makes me sleepy xD And I was already prepared to drift away during this episode again and felt a bit demotivated. But I kept going. Well, best fucking decision ever. As soon as I realized she's reading from the Catalogue of the Trapped Dead I was like "Ohhhhh!"

JON: "And I started to pay attention to the ones I… wasn’t drawn to. The tapes I instinctively wanted to discard." That's very clever, go against what the Eye wants!

JON: "There was one, this one, that my hand… pulled back from. I dropped it, twice, when I went to pick it up." Lol, that actually sounds funny. Like "Whoops! I dropped it... Woaa, dropped it again, ahaha, clumsy me."

JON: "I am the avatar of awful knowledge and revealed secrets." Oh Jon, you theater kid!

GERTRUDE: "“When he opened his eyes, he of course saw nothing" Ok, she already read that part and still couldn't guess what was necessary to quit. Already talked about this in MAG 111 - because of this I think those memory-ghosts of the Catalogue work like the appearances of people plugged into the Matrix, a mental projection of their self. How they most liked seeing themselves. So when it comes to depicting Book!Eric, I think he'd still have intact eyes. Cause he says he "destroyed them completely", I can't imagine how one could not see that, if the appearance is the same as in the moment of death.

I love how similar Eric and Gerry sound, and I don't think it's because of the ghostly echo. After all, we do have a recording of Gerry without that effect. Very good VA choice!

ERIC: "I know that I’m not really Eric; I’m just a memory someone wrote down. It hurts, most of the time." Primarily it's probably meant to be an effect of the Catalogue's nature, of the Fears just doing their job. But I guess the knowledge of not actually being you also makes it weird and uncomfortable. Sometimes I think about that, like what are we anyway? Isn't the memory of oneself's entire life basically what makes one that particular person (+ hardwired personality probably)? Because it still matters on which hardware we run. Otherwise, how would we explain body dysphoria?

ERIC: "You too. (beat) You got old." GERTRUDE: "Better than being dead." ERIC: (short sigh of a laugh) "Fair enough. To be honest, I’m impressed, more than anything. Hard to get old in this business. You either die, or you, uh, stay young. (short, uncomfortable pause) …How did Mary look?" GERTRUDE: (same sort of short laugh) "She got old, too." Well, let's see, this is in 2008. My educated guess from MAG 35 was that Gerry was born sometime around 1983 or 1984. Perhaaaps 1985 when we'll go with the most extreme numbers from MAG 35. We don't know when exactly Mary killed Eric, Eric says he left the Archives months before she killed him. So, Eric died.. what? 1984 or 1985? So he hasn't seen Gertrude in over 20 years! He probably saw Mary a few times since she summoned him to bounce off ideas of him. But even if she kept doing that for a few years and then stopped, 15 years would still be a long time with visible changes^^

ERIC: "And Gerry? Have you seen my son?" Nawwww... He actually calls him Gerry, like he always wanted friends (and probably loved ones) to call him.

ERIC: "Yeah, it doesn’t feel great. But being dead, I s’pose you don’t feel things quite as strongly. Little bit – flat." Ha, flat like a piece of paper!

ERIC: "Elias? Elias Bouchard, seriously?!" GERTRUDE: "Hm, he’s changed a lot." <.<

GERTRUDE: "So. What did they not want me to know?" ERIC: "I quit." GERTRUDE: "You – Sorry, you quit?" ERIC: "Yeah. I figured out how." Well, on my first listen I was sitting at the edge of the sofa at that point, staring wide-eyed at the TMA logo in the YT video on screen.

ERIC: "You know, you were never actually all that nice to me when I worked for you, Gertrude. Not like Michael, or Emma." Hahahaha, very good, let her dangle a bit! I'd like to say I'd do the same but I know that in the end I never want to give people, one: what they did to me, and two: something they could hold against me in return.

Eric: "I don’t know what she saw in me, not really." Not-really counter of S4: 20!

ERIC: "You were almost there, you know, with your theory that James could watch us from any eye, even an illustration. What did you do? How did you sever that link?" GERTRUDE: "My God!" Yeah, at that point I said "Fuuuuck" out loud... My spouse was sitting on the couch next to me was like ?? and I just kept saying "Fuck" over and over again. First: Eyes are one of the body parts I find the most horrific... I can watch every body horror torture splatter movie without problems but when it's about eyes... Fuck off! If I'd be in that position I'd be like "Yeah, you know what, I actually like the Archives! Screw that, y'all go ahead and do what you must do, but keep me out of it." Second, I love moments like this in fiction! The last one like this I remember was when I read The Last Wish (The Witcher) by Sapkowski, specifically The Lesser Evil. When that innkeeper (or whatever that guy was) explained what happened in Tridam and it dawned on me what Renfri was about to do (just like it dawned on Geralt in that moment. I love having the same reaction like characters. When I can discover huge things alongside them).

[TAPE CLICKS ON.] [JON SIGHS HEAVILY.] JON: "Fuck." [TAPE CLICKS OFF.] Yah, same...

JON: "I know. I know what you said, but I just – (inhale) I think I’ve found a way for us to leave the Institute." [BRIEF PAUSE.] MARTIN: "O-kay…?" JON: "Yeah. But it’s – (heavy inhale) It’s pretty drastic." MARTIN: (hah) "What, you going to gouge your eyes out, or something?" [BEAT.] MARTIN: (gets it) "Fuck off!" Such an iconic piece of dialogue xD

MARTIN: "Erm… like, I mean… permanently? Or…" This has the same energy as answering "In general?" to the question of "Haven't seen a dog, have you?"... Those idiots^^

JON: "But we could leave here, you and me. Escape." Eeek <3

JON: (squawk) "Uh, I, I don’t know. I don’t – know. But… maybe it’s worth it? The risk – y-you and me, together, getting out of here –" [MARTIN SNIFFS.] JON: "– one way or another." MARTIN: "Jon." Double Eeeek <3

So what's going on here has a name, URST or UST. It stands for UnResolved Sexual Tension, although I don't like that term cause it's just as well used for unresolved romantic tension. Especially when we're talking about a couple with an ace character, or when it's used in a show for minors about minors (Miraculous is a textbook example). So basically it's a trope to keep suspense going on by having all kinds of obstacles to keep the love interests from actually getting together, usually also having them pine after each other over and over again + once in a while giving them a scene in which it looks like they finally get somewhere. Full disclosure: I'm a sucker for that trope. I loved that in Inu Yasha, I love this in Miraculous (although it's getting a bit destroyed by all the What-if-episodes with a subsequent time reset or memory wipe) and of course I love it in TMA.

JON: "I mean, whatever their plan is for me, I am damn sure that doing that isn’t it. I’d derail everything – we could derail everything, and then just – leave!" Time travel fix-it for TMA is extremely difficult because you basically have these powerful forces which had it all planned out. I think there are actually two points in TMA where it could really take a very different turn. One of them is here. If Jon blinds himself, he won't belong to the Eye anymore and can't complete the ritual. And given what Annabelle says in MAG 197 it sounds like Jon will even survive being cut off from the Eye. (There’s of course still the problem of just going ahead with a new Archivist, so it’s only a temporary resolve...)

MARTIN: "Nothing; It’s just – (one more laugh) It’s just ironic, that’s all." That's totally in the sense of "At any time before taking Peter's deal I would have run away with you in a heartbeat. But back then you never came to me and now when you do it's me who won't do it"-ironic, right?

@a-mag-a-day

[ailendolin]

ThemThere Thursday - 04 - BBC Ghosts

Title: Knowledge [AO3]

Characters: Thomas/Nigel, Walter, Julian, Fanny, Alison

Prompt: A fic about Nigel being upset when he is called unintelligent and Thomas comforting him. - Prompt sent in by a lovely anon.

A/N: I struggled quite a lot with this fic and to be honest, I think it could have probably used another round of editing but I promised to post it in February so here it is, anon. I hope you enjoy it!

Prompts are open, so if you want me to write a story for you just send me an ask with the fandom, characters and your prompt. I’m writing for Ghosts, Yonderland, Horrible Histories and Bill at the moment.

————

Knowledge

“Why would you say that?”

Thomas only managed to catch the end of the conversation as he strolled into the common room but the tone of Nigel’s voice –fragile and hurt – was enough to set alarm bells ringing in his head.

“What’s going on?” he asked warily, looking from Nigel to Walter and finally to Julian. When no one said anything, he looked back at Nigel and managed to catch a glimpse of his trembling lower lip before he bit down on it, hard enough to draw blood were he alive. Then, with one last hurt glare aimed at Walter, Nigel turned around and left without another word. Thomas stared after him, surprised by both Nigel’s sudden departure and the longing he felt to follow him and soothe the frown on his face with a gentle touch until he was smiling again.

“Well, that’s that sorted,” he heard Julian mutter behind him.

Filled with an anger he normally reserved for that traitorous cousin of his, Thomas rounded on him. “What the hell did you say to him?”

Julian instinctively took a step back and held up his hands in defence. “Don’t look at me. I’m just an innocent bystander here.”

Thomas scoffed. As if. Still, he turned the force of his glare onto Walter who glared right back at him and crossed his arms in front of his chest, not looking intimidated at all.

“What?” he asked haughtily. “Are you his guard dog now?”

“Just answer the question,” Thomas ground out, biting down on the urge to rise to the taunt.

Walter rolled his eyes but pointed at a game sitting on the table next to them. “We found this game and after Julian here kindly explained it to us, I told him it’s not the sort of thing Nigel would enjoy. That’s all. Happy now?”

“Certainly not, sir,” Thomas all but growled. He glanced down at the game – Trivial Pursuit. It was the first time he’d seen it around the house. “Why wouldn’t Nigel enjoy this game?”

“Because,” Walter said in a tone that made Thomas want to push him through the nearest wall, “it’s a game for clever people. And Nigel, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, is not the brightest candle on the cake.”

He flashed Thomas a sweet smile that made Thomas want to punch him in the face and then push him through the nearest wall. “You know that’s not true.”

Walter outright laughed at him. “Oh, isn’t it?”

“No,” Thomas insisted. “You know very well that we’ve been studying together twice a week for months now and–“

“Studying,” Julian muttered under his breath. “Is that what they call it now?”

“Yes, studying!” Thomas said indignantly. “Ask Lady Button! She’s been teaching us all about mathematics – isn’t that right?”

He turned to Fanny, silently begging her to come to his aid. She let out a sigh but nodded. “I have indeed. And I can tell you it’s neither of their fortes.”

Thomas frowned.

“Alison!” he said, turning to her for help when she came into the room. “Tell them!”

She looked between him and the others, a little lost. “Uhm, what exactly should I tell, Thomas?”

“Tell them about the lessons! With Nigel!” he said, waving his arms as if that would somehow make her catch up faster.

“Oh!” Alison said, realisation dawning on her face. “Yeah, I’m laying out different books for them every week.”

Thomas gestured at her as if to say, “See?”

“So what?” Walter said, looking unimpressed. “Doesn’t mean you read them.”

Feeling his blood boil with barely suppressed anger, Thomas decided a different approach was in order. “What’s the last book you’ve read, then, sir?”

Walter clenched his jaw – the first sign that Thomas was getting under his skin.

“You know I can’t read,” he ground out.

“Exactly,” Thomas said. “But guess what? Nigel can because our lessons also double as reading exercises. So how dare you say he’s not clever enough to play this game but you are.”

For a moment, it looked like Walter would be wavering but then he fixed Thomas with another glare and said in a low, dangerous voice, “You know, the only reason Nigel spends time with you is because he fancies you. Studying is the last thing on his mind.”

The room abruptly fell silent. Thomas gaped at Walter in open-mouthed shock as he tried to make sense of what he’d just heard. Nigel fancied him. Could that be true?

Of course not, he quickly admonished himself. Walter was just messing with him and yet–

And yet, Thomas’s heart was hammering wildly against his chest at the mere thought of being loved by someone like Nigel – kind and gentle as the morning dawn. He could not imagine what he had possibly done to gain Nigel’s affections but if Walter spoke the truth, then Thomas had been terribly blind for the longest time.

Still, he refused to believe that Nigel spent several hours every week pouring over books with him out of love alone. He had seen the way Nigel’s eyes had lit up with pure happiness the first time he’d managed to read a sentence on his own. He revelled in learning, Thomas was sure of it. Their lessons might have started out as an attempt to gain his affections, if Walter was to be believed, but somewhere between reading up on the Palaeolithic and Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration they had become so much more.

With that in mind, Thomas straightened his waistcoat and met Walter’s eyes. “I feel sorry for you, sir, that even after spending centuries with him, you clearly do not know him at all.”

He turned his back on Walter and walked out of the room without waiting for a reply. The moment he was out of sight, he steadied himself on the wall and took a deep breath, still reeling from the revelation that Nigel might like him – might actually see beyond the gunshot wound and clunky poetry and cherish the hurt heart beating underneath. Thomas knew, of course, that Nigel had been infatuated with him once – all the villagers had been thanks to that terrible misunderstanding over the portrait. But Thomas would have never, not even for a second, thought that this infatuation could have grown into something deeper over time, something that went beyond the mere appeal of his physical appearance.

Walter might have lied, he reminded himself and in the same moment realised it didn’t matter because the closeness that had developed between him and Nigel as a result of their study sessions was undeniably real. It was its own kind of love, born from a mutual desire to explore the past and understand the world, and Thomas couldn’t imagine living without it now. He did not need it to be sealed with a kiss to know its worth.

It was that quiet love that sent him first down and then up the stairs in search of Nigel. When he couldn’t find him in the basement, he went to the library – the very place where they had spent countless of hours pouring over maps and books and filling the silence with soft murmurs. There he found Nigel in what Thomas used to call his Sighing Place. He was sitting curled up by the window and staring so forlornly at the world outside that Thomas was painfully reminded of the many times he had sat there doing the same, and how miserable he’d felt every time he sought solace here.

Clearing his throat softly, he mimicked knocking on one of the shelves to announce his presence.

“Knock knock.” Nigel sighed in reply, making him falter. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. If you’d rather be alone …“

He gestured at the door behind him, leaving the sentence hanging. Nigel let out another sigh, one that sounded more weary than annoyed, and hastily wiped a hand over his eyes before he uncurled from his position and finally looked at Thomas.

“No, I’m sorry. Please … stay,” he said and gestured to the empty space beside him.

Thomas flashed him a small, relieved smile and crossed the room. The moment he took his seat Nigel stretched out his legs so his toes were resting lightly against the soft fabric of Thomas’s breeches. The casual intimacy of the gesture made Thomas’s heart flutter in a way it probably wouldn’t have an hour ago.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel unwelcome,” Nigel said, so quiet Thomas had to strain to hear him. “I’m just … so angry right now. But not with you, though, Thomas. Never with you.”

Their eyes met and Thomas itched to reach out and wipe away the regret he found darkening Nigel’s gaze. “You have every right to be angry – and to feel hurt.”

Nigel sighed. “They told you, then?”

When Thomas nodded, he looked down at his hands and let out another sigh.

“I don’t know why I thought this would change anything,” he said dejectedly and gestured at the book on the table which currently showed a picture of Alexander von Humboldt’s Chimborazo map.

“Maybe you’re looking at it the wrong way,” Thomas suggested carefully. When Nigel looked up at him, he said, “Books can aid in education, yes, but they don’t make you smarter. They merely help you hone what is already there.” He paused to offer Nigel a small smile. “You might not see it but you’ve always been brilliant, Nigel.”

Nigel ducked his head. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

“I know,” Thomas said softly. “But that doesn’t mean it is not true. You know so much more than you give yourself credit for. Just take the boiler for example–“

“I just happened to be there when it was installed,” Nigel murmured.

“No,” Thomas argued, “you happened to be curious enough to pay attention and smart enough to understand the mechanics.”

Nigel considered this.

“I suppose so,” he said reluctantly.

“And don’t forget your knowledge of plants and herbs,” Thomas went on. “I’m fairly sure no one in this house knows more about them than you do. Well, Mary might have,” he conceded, “but she’s–“

He broke off, feeling his throat close up. It had been months since Mary had moved on and yet Thomas still found himself unable to comprehend the suddenness of her departure and the silence she’d left behind in her wake.

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, my point is: knowledge can come in many shapes and forms, and from all kinds of sources. Books aren’t the end all, be all. They certainly weren’t for me.”

“Really?” Nigel asked.

Thomas nodded. “I was taught to write by my tutor and learned how to dance from my mother; my grandmother taught me all the ways to tell a story and thanks to Robin I now look up at the night sky and see more than stars. We learn so much from the people around us, Nigel. Every single day. It might not be the conventional form of learning but it is a form of it nonetheless. The knowledge we gain from those around us is just as important as the one found inside these books, perhaps even more so because it is always piece of someone else – a memory to be held dear.”

The corner of Nigel’s mouth twitched into a faint smile as his eyes grew distant. “Old Nan was the one who taught me everything I know about herbs. She found me in the fields one day uprooting weeds. Gave me a lecture right then and there as she often did when she came across children doing something careless. Apparently, I was the first one who actually listened.”

“The start of your apprenticeship,” Thomas smiled.

“Yeah,” Nigel said softly. He remained lost in the past for a moment longer before he blinked the memories away and returned to Thomas and the present. “I haven’t thought about her in a very long time. She’d always had faith in me, you know? She and my parents. Everyone else? Not so much.”

“Everyone? Or just Walter?” Thomas asked. Nigel’s shrug was answer enough. “Why does he have it in for you?”

Nigel buried his face in his hands. “He caught me kissing his younger brother once.”

Thomas’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt. While this wasn’t proof that Nigel had feelings for him, it was proof that Nigel wasn’t averse to the idea of being romantically involved with men, and hearing him say it out loud made what had previously been nothing more than an abstract possibility suddenly, undeniably real. Unwillingly, Thomas thought about Nigel kissing a nameless figure – perhaps behind a barn, or behind the cover of a tree –and felt his face heat up. He imagined gentle fingers entangled in dark hair and lips pulled up into a smile as sweet as snowdrops in spring as two bodies pressed as close together as possible.

His voice came out embarrassingly hoarse when he asked, “I suppose Walter wasn’t happy about that?”

“God, no,” Nigel groaned and dropped his hands. “He nearly broke my arm when he forced us apart.”

He tried to laugh it off but Thomas could tell the memory still stung. “What happened next?”

“Ned was sent away to some distant cousin or something – I can’t quite remember now – so that was the end of that.”

Thomas gave him a long look.

“Was it?” he asked.

Nigel shook his head.

“No,” he sighed. The single word seemed to carry the weight of the world. “Walter, he – he made it his mission to make my life as miserable as possible from that moment on. He kept quiet about what had happened, of course – to protect Ned’s reputation, you know? But he did his best to ruin mine.”

“And no one ever said anything? Came to your defence?” Thomas asked quietly.

Nigel shrugged. “Walter did it so subtly they didn’t really notice. He’d say things like, ‘Better check the number of potatoes he’s given you – you know Nigel’s not so good with numbers,’ or, ‘Are you sure you want that salve of his? He might have mixed up the ingredients. Clumsy, our Nigel, isn’t he?’ He always laughed it off, mind, but the words still stayed in people’s memories. And once you’ve got a reputation for being unreliable and stupid, well …”

He left the sentence hanging and Thomas’s heart ached with sympathy. He knew a thing or two about reputation, about how difficult it was to stare it in the face and keep going in spite of it, and wished Nigel hadn’t felt its painful sting. “Did you ever see Ned again?”

“Once or twice, when he came to visit,” Nigel said quietly and looked down at his hands. “He always kept his distance, though, and I kept mine. It was better that way.”

Thomas wondered how often he’d told himself that, how many nights he still lay awake and dreamt of kissing those lips again and being held in his lover’s embrace just one more time.

“One good thing came out of the whole mess, though,” Nigel went on, his voice a little lighter now. “Ned had been far away when Mick brought the plague to our village.”

He never stopped loving him, Thomas realised when he saw the soft smile, gentled by centuries of grateful relief for that small mercy, on Nigel’s face. He suddenly found it hard to imagine that Nigel could ever love him the way he loved Walter’s brother – across space and time and with a fierceness not even death could diminish. How could he have possibly touched Nigel’s heart so profoundly, and without meaning to?

The answer was he hadn’t. Walter had lied, just as Thomas had feared all along. It was a sobering realisation.

“Sorry,” Nigel said sheepishly, pulling him from his thoughts. “You’re not here to hear my sob story.”

“It’s not a sob story,” Thomas said, trying his best to ignore the way his heart ached with a loss he had no right to feel. “It’s your life, Nigel.”

“Well, yes,” Nigel acknowledged. “But it’s probably not what you expected to hear so … thanks for not turning your back on me because of the – you know.”

Thomas was no stranger to the fear and wariness in his eyes. He had seen them in the Captain’s more often than he could count and also mirrored in his own, a long time ago. He supposed men like them had never had it easy. There was a reason, after all, why he had chosen to focus his attentions so firmly on the female form after his mother had caught him looking at their stable boy a little too longingly, why the Captain had let his lieutenant go even though it broke his heart and why Nigel had done the same with Ned. Following hearts like theirs had always been dangerous, and as someone who had never gotten the chance to kiss a woman and always been too afraid to kiss a man, Thomas admired Nigel for his courage to reach for what he wanted, consequences be damned.

Feeling he owed him a little courage in return, he placed his hand on top of Nigel’s and let his heart speak for him for once. “Nothing could ever make me turn my back on you, Nigel. Least of all love.”

The words were meant to be reassuring, or so Thomas told himself, but when their eyes met it suddenly felt like they were hovering on the edge of something. Thomas’s heart began to beat faster in his chest as hope flared up within him against his will. He found himself tipping forward, desperate to reach for a love he fiercely hoped was real so he could hold onto it and keep it safe in whatever way he could.

Instead, he pulled back his hand and dropped his gaze, paralysed by the scars Isabelle’s rejection had carved into his soul.

He was such a coward.

“Thank you,” Nigel said quietly, blissfully unaware of his inner battle. “You have no idea what that means to me.”

Thomas wanted to take his hand in his again and tell him how terrified he was of the hope he felt blooming in his heart, but the words got stuck in his throat until he conceded defeat and, changing the subject, said, “How about we put an end to the bullying once and for all and challenge Walter and Julian to a game?”

“What, right now?” Nigel asked, surprised.

“No time like the present,” Thomas said and stood up. “Let’s show them who’s clever.”

Later, after their triumphant win, they would find their way back to the library where Nigel would lean his head on Thomas’s shoulder and reach for his hand in silent gratitude. Thomas, in a moment of bravery that made his stomach clench, would turn his hand around in Nigel’s gentle grasp to interlace their fingers, just like he’d wanted to earlier. Nigel would smile at him and squeeze his hand, and this time Thomas would not pull away.

[kaen-ace-of-diamonds]

The Emperor

Word Count: 1500+ (oneshot)

[AO3]

Genre: Family/Angst

Characters: Su-won, Yu-hon

Summary: Eventually, Su-won had had to accept that he was never going to be his father’s son.

Written for @akayonatarotzine

~0~

The first memory that Su-won can recall is being taught sternly not to introduce himself to people with a friendly, “Hello! My name is Su-won!” 

Such an open and casual address was unbecoming for someone of his blood, he had been informed. The proper thing for him to say was, “I am Su-won, son of Prince Yu-hon.”

Not “Prince Su-won” either, mind. He was of the noblest blood in all Kouka, true, and would always be called by a title of honor and respect. But only a son of the king and a potential heir to the throne would be permitted to call himself a prince. For anyone else to do so would be as presumptuous and insulting as a commoner who brazenly crowned himself king. 

“Never mind it, son,” his father would mutter. “How meaningful it is to be called Prince ebbs and flows like the ocean. I hold the title of General with far greater pride, for it is one I earned and kept for myself. What I gained from it came from my own blood, sweat, and strength, and not by anyone else’s favor.”

His father had delivered this speech many times before his death; to no one but his son would Yu-hon speak this much or this baldly. Su-won was four the first time he had been audience to it, sitting on the short stone wall of the royal training court as night darkened around them.

“So you don’t mind that Grandpa Ju-nam didn’t name you king?”

Yu-hon stopped in mid-swing of his sword, turning to look at his son with a spark of irritation in his eyes. “What? Who told you that?”

Su-won glanced to the side, idly kicking his small legs, precise voices and faces floating through his mind. “People. They spread rumors, when things don’t go the way they think they’re supposed to.”

After another moment of unimpressed glaring, Yu-hon returned to his drills. “People like that know nothing. Let their words roll off your back, son, they’re unworthy of your consideration. And Su-won?”

“Yes, Father?”

“To you, it’s His Majesty or King Ju-nam. Show respect. Now...pay attention.” Yu-hon paused. “I have come to terms with the fact that my only son and heir will never be king. But that does not mean you will be passed over, or forgotten. No country lives and dies by its king alone. You will become a warrior, and the pride of Kouka, just like your father before you.”

Yu-hon was not a particularly clever or thoughtful person. He was like a mountain turned into a man, stern and cold and unmoved. As far as his feelings went, Su-won was no different than the rest of Kouka: he admired Yu-hon to distraction, loved him with every inch of his heart, and wished to share in the blessing that the gods must certainly have given him, to become such a powerful hero. 

However, Su-won had what nobody else would ever gain: Yu-hon’s blood, and his attention. Yong-hi had made clear that she wished to have no more children, very soon after Su-won’s birth; he had not learned this from either of his parents and he often wondered whether he had somehow been the cause. Yu-hon could never seem to deny his wife her wishes, and hadn’t said a word of his own thoughts on the matter of siring more sons. He made up for it by resting all of his hopes and dreams on Su-won’s shoulders, and Su-won was more than willing to accept the burden.

To that end, he was willing to follow his father anywhere, in anything. The first real sword he held had been Yu-hon’s, at his age, and he learned its art quickly. (It never quite felt as home in his hand as his father said it should, but he figured that that didn’t matter.) He was permitted to sit on the sidelines at some of the war meetings, provided he promised only to listen. He learned to ride at his side, on the colt of his prized war stallion, no less. 

“Look well on our kingdom, Su-won,” Yu-hon said. The bluffs around Kuuto were his favorite place to take his son riding, for the views they could appreciate from their edges. “It will never be yours to rule over. But it will be yours to protect, with everything you have.”

Su-won nodded. His love for other people so easily blended together with love for his kingdom. “Yes, Father.”

“I understand you’ve already made some connections within Kuuto?” Yu-hon turned to his son with a smirk. “Ju-do told me about that little adventure you had in its underbelly, with Mun-deok’s boy and little Yona.”

Su-won giggled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “We didn’t mean for it to get out of hand. Yona had never seen the castle town before and — ”

“Yes, we must obey the will of our rulers,” Yu-hon cut him off, and Su-won did not pipe back up to correct him. “But I heard Mun-deok’s boy showed you up with his power. I won’t have that, Su-won. You must stand above all other men, in strength and stature. Understand?”

“Yes, Father.”

Su-won did not argue to defend the value of his own contribution; keeping that knowledge quietly to himself felt like enough. But at his age, he was still accepting his father’s word as law, and took it for granted that Yu-hon’s encapsulation of power was the superior one. The mountain was emotionless, and could not be dictated to. Nor could it be moved or defied, or pierced by a sword...

...Or so he had thought. 

Until the day he died, Su-won was sure he’d never forget how it sounded when his father’s body was run through, all the breath leaving it in one awful gasp, and collapsed like a stringless puppet to the floor. He didn’t remember what King Il’s face had looked like: blank, like an executioner’s? Angry, like one provoked into abandoning his most closely held principles? Sorrowful, like...well, a man who’d just slaughtered his only brother like an animal? He didn’t know and he didn’t care. 

Su-won had been sure he would be next. Not only had he been careless in running and hiding, too panicked to think clearly, but what would be the point of killing a prince and general and not getting rid of his heirs, too? It had been a week of holing up in their manor before he’d realized that the sword really wasn’t coming down on him, too.

Then once he’d got that through his head...what was he to do? The mountain had crumbled before him, everything that his father was destroyed by one quick movement of a blade. Su-won could barely comprehend it. The only thing he had known for sure was that he could not — could never — allow the same to happen to him.

And he knew now how to ensure that.

He was never going to be his father’s son, not in the way that the kingdom and Yu-hon himself had expected him to be. He could not be the mountain, for that was far more fallible than it looked even if it had suited him. He had instead dedicated his life to the opposite approach. 

The first time he had seen his uncle Il after the murder, he had thrown on a bright smile and run to give him a hug. He doted on Yona, genuinely; once he killed her father, there was no guarantee she’d never find out about what he’d done, and he wished to enjoy what time with her he had left. With his father and teacher gone, he focused on gleaning as much as he could about strategy and combat from his friendships with Hak and Ju-do. And he flexed his fingers a little more every day on the unseen strings that set Kuuto in motion when he played at them. 

Rather than the mountain, Su-won was the water that wore down the stone, the wind that cut through the skin and froze to the bone, the shadow that traveled everywhere so it could see and know all. 

Grown now, after ten years of setting everything necessary for his coup in motion, Su-won considered that. He sat alone in his room as the night dragged on, unable to sleep, idly cradling a sword in his hands.

“Father,” he murmured so softly that he barely heard himself. “I’m sorry to tell you that you were wrong. I was never going to be like you. Had you lived...I fear I would have disappointed you with our differences. You truly did wish for the crown, and never got it. I still care nothing for it, for its own sake, and yet...”

In twenty-four hours, Il would be dead, and Su-won would be king. He would rule in his own way, not in any imitation of his father’s one brute-force approach. And he would use every breath of life he had left to forge Kouka into the greatest empire in the world.

[babybluebex]

me and my husband [baron zemo x reader]

summary ↠ in the process of making sure zemo is okay after a fight in latvia, you find a way to put captain john walker in his place. pairing ↠ baron zemo x fem!reader (y/n) word count ↠ 1.6k warnings ↠ explicit language, itty bitty tfatws ep. 4 spoilers, john walker being misogynistic and a Total Dick a/n ↠ (yes the title is a mitski reference) enjoy! masterlist/taglist in bio! (also thank u @therenlover for your invaluable support and screaming in my instagram dms)

As far as you were concerned, John Walker could rot in hell.

You had only just heard the fight break out, the smashing of glass making your quicken your step, and you had rushed into the room the moment that Walker, in his infinite prickishness, had hurtled that dumb metal shield through the air. You had watched it collide against your husband’s cheek, and Helmut had gone limp instantly and crumpled to the floor.

“What the hell?” you had cried, enraged, and Bucky and Sam were quick to come in after you. “What the fuck was that for, you prick?”

John Walker had given you a confused look, then looked to his partner, then to Sam and Bucky. Originally, Sam had initially been opposed to bringing you along on their mission to retrieve information about the Flag Smashers, but your husband had extended an ultimatum: “She comes with me, or I don’t come at all.” They needed Zemo to get into Madripoor, so the Americans sighed and allowed you to come. You yourself weren’t quite sure why Zemo was insistent that you come with him, but, the moment you saw him get hit by Captain America’s shield, it made sense: to vouch for him when he couldn’t.

“Who’re you?” John had asked carefully, and Sam huffed out a laugh.

“Aw, this’ll be good,” Sam had mumbled as you stormed towards John. Your shoes clicked against the floor as you came chest to chest with him, and you planted your hands on your hips.

“My name is Zemo,” you had told him. “And you just gave my husband a concussion.”

John stared at you for a minute, then at Helmut at his feet, then back at you. “Husband?” he replied. “But he’s been in jail for seven years.”

“Of all the people to explain my relationship to, you are not high on that list,” you spat. “Now, get him up.”

John looked around at his compatriots in obvious confusion, and Bucky sighed. “Just do it, man,” he mumbled.

“And why won’t you do it?” John asked.

“Because he’s not the one with the giant metal trash can lid strapped to his arm,” you said. “You are. You are the one who hurt my husband, and you are going to fix this. So, Captain, I suggest you move him from the middle of the floor.”

And now, finally back in the small Latvian flat, you were able to properly tend to Helmut. He had come to just as John had set him on the sofa, and you could gauge that he was concussed. It didn’t seem too bad, but he was still a bit disoriented. Helmut gave a small groan, certainly one of pain, and you whispered, “There he is. How’re you feeling, love?”

Helmut glanced around you for a moment, trying to get his bearings, and he mumbled, “What happened?”

“An American oaf with a trash can lid took you out,” you explained. “He got you in the face pretty good.” Gingerly, you skimmed your fingers over his cheek, testing for any tenderness, and you heard a low groan escape him when you touched the red patch on his face. “Let me get you an ice pack.”

“I can do it, mein Schatz,” Helmut began, but you gently pushed on his chest to keep him down.

“Hel, please,” you sighed. “You need to rest. Let me take care of you.”

After a moment, your husband sighed and laid back down, and he rested his head back on a pillow. Just as you stood up, Helmut reached out and grabbed your hand tightly. “You’re too good to me,” he mumbled, stroking his thumb along the back of your hand. “What would I do without you?”

“There’s no telling,” you sighed, and you leaned down to kiss him. He kissed back, a bit weak and tired, but his hand on yours spoke the words that his kiss didn’t. “Take off your jacket, my love, you’ll get too warm.”

You walked across the space to the bathroom, and you grabbed a small hand towel to run under some cold water. As you did your task at the kitchen sink, you heard John, Bucky, Lamar, and Sam all muttering between themselves, and you hardly listened to it. You expected it to be some drivel about teamwork or patriotism or whatever it was that any conversation with Captain America turned to, but you finally tuned in when you heard your husband’s name. “Zemo’s got you two cornered,” John said. “Making you do his shit for him. And he demanded to bring her along? Why didn’t you say no?”

“We needed him,” Bucky replied. “And there’s no him without her.”

“Oh, they’re some sorta Bonnie and Clyde?” John huffed. “You’re harboring a fugitive here. A-And you! You’d really put your wife in danger like this?”

“Mein Schatz is resourceful,” you heard Helmut mutter, and you drained the rag of excess water before moving back to him as he spoke. “Smart, clever, and cunning; I married her for a reason.”

You sat on the floor next to him and settled the cold rag over his eyes. He smiled a little and gave a quiet groan, and you rested your hand on his chest. He had done as you had asked and taken off his coat, but you still saw the red flush under his collar. Carefully, you reached up and undid the top few buttons in his wine-colored shirt, and you gave a playful tug at his gold necklace. “Can I get you anything?” you asked him quietly; you spoke in Sokovian, for no other reason than to make John and Lamar squirm.

“Bourbon?” Helmut asked, following your linguistic lead.

“Of course,” you replied. You took his hand off of his stomach and gave his knuckles a kiss, and added, “Anything else?”

“A kiss,” Helmut said, and he gave a quiet little laugh. “I can’t see your face, my treasure, but I know you’re grimacing at me.”

“Never,” you said with a click of your tongue, but you sat up on your knees and pressed a soft kiss to your husband’s lips. You liked kissing Helmut Zemo, especially moments like this, when it was just you and him. Of course, you were surrounded by men who were all bigger and stronger than both of you, but your mother language gave you a feeling of exclusion that you welcomed.

“Alright, whatever the fuck this is has gotta stop,” John groaned, and you broke away from the kiss slowly. “Listen, we’ve put up with a lot of your shit, Zemo, but your little cock-sleeve or whatever she is is taking things one step too far.”

Helmut sighed with the weight of the insult, took up your hand blindly and squeezed, and he whispered, “Go easy on him, won’t you?”

“Would you?” you asked, and planted a quick kiss to his cheek. You stood carefully and smoothed out your shirt, and then you turned to John. He truly was an impressive figure, but you felt his uneasiness radiating off of him. You were the player, and he the instrument; you only had to find the right chord. “First of all,” you began. “Insulting a woman because she likes to have sex? Low blow, Walker. I thought that Cap respected women.”

“He does,” Bucky said. “He’s supposed to.”

“I’m not Steve--”

“Did I ever say Steve?” you snapped. “No, I said Cap. Captain America is a title and a role that you should be fucking thankful for, and you treat it like a curse that’s been put on you. Cap protects and serves, and look at what you’ve done while you’ve had that shield: you’ve been frolicking around on television and causing more trouble than you’re worth.”

Sam gave an affirmative grunt from over your shoulder, and, if you had been facing him, you would have seen the way he pressed his fist into Zemo’s shoulder with a smile.

“You may not be Steve,” you said, taking a step closer. “I truly doubt that the world needs another Steve Rogers. But Captain America is supposed to inspire peace and freedom and trust and all of those American buzzwords, and you’re doing a piss-poor job at it. You have to trust that Sam and Bucky are making the right decisions here, even if those decisions involve me and my husband.” You paused and titled your head in trademark Zemo fashion, a habit you had picked up from Helmut, and you said, “I think that you’re forgetting that you’re in the presence of a man-- the man-- who managed to dismantle the Avengers. Bucky wouldn’t have gotten him out of prison without a good fuckin’ reason, and I think that his help’s been pretty invaluable. But what do I know, right? I’m just his little cock-sleeve.”

You pushed John aside in order to go to the kitchen area and fulfill Helmut’s request of a drink, and you felt proud of yourself. You had wanted to put him in his place ever since you had first heard of him, and your stomach was warm with pride.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Zemo,” John called across the room as you settled a few ice cubes into a small tumbler. “Sometimes I just… I’m sorry.”

“I’m not sure if I want to accept that apology or not,” you replied. “Let me sleep on it.” You brought the drink back to Helmut, and he moved himself to sit up on the couch properly. You took the cool towel from his face and carefully pressed it to the back of his warm neck, and you watched John and Lamar exchange uncomfortable glances. “Oh, and, Captain?” you added, and he turned to look at you. “Missus is nice, but it’s Baroness Zemo to you.”

[tressasinterlude]

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓 #𝟑: Female Public Figures Dating Men with Questionable Views That Contradict Their Image & Alleged Politics

𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗥: These rant blog posts are really just reflective of my thoughts at the time that I make them and are posted here because I need an outlet to release all of this shit I have going on my busy ass mind. That’s it and that’s all. Now let’s get into it..

This rant was greatly inspired by none other than Ms. Robyn Rihanna “Tell Your Faves To Pull Up [in regards to social injustices directly affecting black people]” Fenty and her openly colorist boyfriend, A$AP Rocky. Aside from the fact that Rihanna tends to slip under the radar and is never held accountable for her problematic ways due to her conventional beauty (i.e. Her heavy usage of anti-Asian slurs, particularly targeted towards Chris Brown’s ex gf, Karrueche), it’s very alarming that a woman who has an entire makeup brand with a campaign based around the inclusivity of ALL black women is publicly flaunting a beau who once said that DSBW do not look good with red lipstick.

And yes, I’m very much aware that Rakim said this tasteless comment over 8 years ago but from the looks of it, not much has really changed with him. Don’t @ me about it neither because I don’t care.

Also peep how he compares a hypothetical darkskinned woman to a man (Wesley Snipes) while trying to explain how his antiblackness isn’t wrong because he said something about white women as well. Gaslighting at its finest. Don’t you just love it! 😀

Furthermore, you would think that somebody of Rihanna’s level of stature would know not to associate themselves with someone as messy as A$AP Rocky but... Stupid is what stupid does, I guess! I can’t even begin to place the blame on him anymore because he’s revealed his true colors and we all have made the deliberate choice to either accept it or don’t and have discontinued all support for him. Unfortunately, misogynoir is never the dealbreaker for most people and the hatred for [dark-skinned] black women is so engrained in society that it’s frowned upon when we publicly speak out against it. Very ass backwards if you ask me but that’s society for you. Now, enough about that. Let’s focus back on Ms. Vita La Coco.

As a woman who claims to be a girl’s girl and is always presenting herself to be someone who is the epitome of a pro-black feminist bad ass, it just makes her alleged activism come off so disingenuous when she’s also laying down with the same man that actively attacks the demographic she’s supposed to be standing in solidarity with. It’s “Black Lives Matter” on the IG posts but your vagina is getting moist for a man who openly stated he doesn’t relate to what goes on in Ferguson because he lives in Soho & Beverly Hills. Ferguson being the exact place where a 17-year-old black boy’s lifeless corpse laid on the hot concrete for FOUR hours after he was murdered by a police officer. He couldn’t 'relate' to the fate of so many black men, women, and children who are murdered or seriously injured from state-sanctioned violence because they’re poor and he is not or so he thought.

But then again, what can I really expect from a woman who identified as being “biracial” until as recent as roughly 6 years ago? What can I really expect from a woman who called Rachel Dolezal a ‘hero’ for cosplaying as a black woman? I’d be lying if I said my expectations for her were high in this regard because sis has always shown us she was lacking in this department. And just for the record, this is not a personal attack on Rihanna at all for the die-hard Navy stans in the back. I admire her latest fashions and bop my head to her music just like the next person but she’s getting the side-eye from me on this one.

Trust and believe me though, she’s not the only woman who I can call out for being a hypocrite. Of course not! This stone can be cast at a few others. So without further ado, why don’t we bring Ms. Kehlani Parrish to the front of the congregation? Prior to Kehlani’s recent declaration of identifying as a lesbian, her last public relationship with a man was with YG. Yes, the same YG who felt it was necessary to say him & Nipsey had ‘pretty light-skinned’ daughters to raise in the middle of his deceased friend’s memorial. By the way, Nipsey’s daughter is not even light (or at least not in my book anyways.) She’s a very deep caramel tone just like her father which makes what he said even more moronic. Yes, the same YG who thought it was clever idea to use slavery as an aesthetic for a music video to a diss track about 6ix9ine. And yes, also the same YG who has derogatory lyrics targeted at bisexual women. Just to end up sweating the red carpets with one. I swear the jokes just continue to write themselves.

This raises the question once more; How high of a pedestal can I really put a multiracial woman who has a song titled ‘N*ggas’ and when received backlash for the song in question, she used the ultimate ‘I’m mixed’ copout while not having a visibly black parent in sight?

It’s also kind of suspicious to me that many were not privy to Kehlani’s secret romance with Victoria Monét (pictured bottom right) until Victoria did an interview with Gay Times revealing she fell in love with a girl but they subsequently broke up because Victoria had a boyfriend and that girl was pregnant in a polyamorous relationship. Fans began to speculate because both Victoria & Kehlani previously candidly spoke about their sexual orientations, Kehlani had just had Adeya and they both were seemingly close. Their short-lived fling would later be confirmed when Victoria released the song ‘Touch Me’ on her last project and Kehlani hopped on the remix. Meanwhile, Kehlani’s relationship with Shaina (pictured bottom left) was very overt and all over her Instagram feed from my recollection. And as you can see, Shaina looks absolutely nothing like Victoria. They look like the complete opposite of eachother in every aspect which is kind of alarming(?) to say the least because why is it that the women she proudly claims as her partners tend to have a very racially ambiguous look such as herself but her ‘sneaky links’ on the other hand are undoubtedly black women? Again, it could just be me jumping conclusions. You know, I’m kinda good for that however something tells me I’m not. Y’all be the judge of the material though.

Last but not least, I’d like to touch on Ms. Raven Tracy very briefly. I was very weary about even including in this segment and if I should just put her in a entirely separate blog post with other women who openly date abusers despite their checkered past (alongside Nicki Minaj & her r*pist murderer of a husband, India Love & Sheck Wes etc.) being this particular blog post was based around the theme of lightskinned/mixed women dating men with extremely problematic views about DSBW. Raven obviously isn’t lightskinned or mixed however I refused to ignore how contradictory her [former] relationship with an alleged (I used this word very loosely and mainly for legality purposes.) serial r*pist while promoting a brand that is all about feminism & body positivity. This also traces back to A$AP Rocky by default being that Ian Connor is his very close friend and he came to Connor’s defense when several women came forward detailing accounts of Connor allegedly s*xually assaulting them. (I wish I could place the actual video of what A$AP Rocky said verbatim but Tumblr only allows one video per blog post. 🙄)

Back in June of this year, Ian & Raven had a back & forth on Twitter after Ian tweeted about Raven “fucking everybody” behind his back. I can only assume that he was alluding to Tori Brixx posting a video of her ex, Rich the Kid & Raven kissing on her story. Disgusted is not even the word to describe my feeling when she admitted she stuck by Ian despite of his many allegations of s*xual abuse because she loved him and her being a empath causes her to want to help everybody. Imagine aiding and abetting a predator and even paying for his bail & legal fees just to turn around and expect sympathy because this same individual cheated on you and exploited you all over Twitter for the public to see. The same man that you would get back with not even a WEEK after the fact & turn off your IG comments because it isn’t our “business” after making it our business...

That being said, I just genuinely want to know: Why do these women completely go against what they stand for in regards to these men? Maybe it was never genuine from jump street and if that’s the case, why jump on the bandwagon of performative activism? Is it because it’s profitable right now? Is it because disrespecting black women is not an immediate death sentence to your careers and more often than not actually helps you advance even further? I guess that’s the billion dollar question that’ll never truly be answered. I just want the world to stop using black women as their stepping stool to get to where they need to go and then discarding of us when we’re no longer beneficial. Support us all the way or don’t support us at all. We deal with enough disrespect as is so we’d appreciate if y’all would stop straddling the fence and partake in your misogynoir out loud if that’s what you choose to do. We have no use for fake allyship and quite frankly, it’s doing more harm for us than good. Please and thank you!

Sincerely,

- 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂 𝙴𝙳𝙶𝙰𝚁 𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙽 𝙷𝙾𝙴. 💋

[smallrainclouds]

Tangled starlights

(working title)

Also hc that Hypnos is also working when he sleeping, he does his job as God of sleep. He can also do a normal sleep so he can get rest. But he doesn't get nearly as much he needs.

Part four of marriage AU

No beta.

🌙💤💤🌙

You stood in the dusty room as Hypnos floated around, lighting the candles on the walls. 

You didn't think you would return to this room. Not after what happened a few days ago. Your stomach twisted in anxiety. You weren't upset exactly but you didn't expect such a strong response. 

"And no one has kept up with the library?" You asked. You didn't want to think about *it* right now.

You walked along the shelfs, the scrolls seemed to be calling for you. 

"Mother made this place before Hades took over the house for her and he didn't deem any of this stuff important." He replied, and pointed to a door at the far end of the room. 

Hypnos waved a hand around. "There are more in that room also. When she was younger, she used to collect as many stories and knowledge as she could. But she never took the time to actually organize it." 

Hypnos lit the last candle and floated down to stand. He kept some distance between You and him. Only his bright eyes followed you around the room as you wondered.

"If you don't want to, it's totally fine. This is a lot-" 

"N-no. I want to!" You shook your head. "I helped Athens with her library the few times she needed to update it." 

You stopped and turned with a smile. "Also I like a good story and I don't doubt that your mother has some great ones in here." 

Hypnos returned your smile and you tried not to think about how close he was last night.

"Great! I'll get Dusa to help you clean up the dust in here."  He glanced around the room, "And maybe some chairs and tables." 

"Yes. Might be helpful." You teased him. And felt a little warm at his laugh.

🌙💤💤🌙

Several hours in and you were bone tired and dusty.  

So.Very.Dusty.

"Hey Dusa! How is it looking up there?" You called out.  Dusa quickly floated to You. Her green, shiny skin was now dark gray with dust but that didn't stop the beaming smile. 

You smiled back, already so fond of Dusa. It felt like You had spent a day with one of your sisters. 

"I think we got all the dust! I'm just sorry we had to remove all the scrolls out of their place."  She glanced at the piles of scrolls in the corner, carefully stacked together.

You shook your head, "It's okay. I've been told it was already a bit of a mess so no harm done."

"O-oh good!" She bobbed in the air. " I think-"

"Oh wow, I didn't realize we had so many scrolls."  An male voice drifted through the door. 

You and Dusa both turned toward the door, surprised at the visitor. 

Zagreus stood, hands on hips as he looked at the pile that loomed over him. 

"O-oh Prince! Be careful!" Dusa rushed over to him. You followed, of course he will show up when you and Dusa were both a mess. 

"Don't worry, I won't touch it." Zagreus smiled at You. " Sorry for coming at a bad time. I heard from Mother Nyx that Hypnos' wife was taking over the library. And I realized I haven't induced myself yet. I'm Zagreus.

"My name is Y/N and I would shake your hand but…" You held up your hands, covered in dust and grime. 

"Of course. If you ever need anything, just let me know." Zagreus' mismatched eyes studied your face as he said it.

"Thank you, Prince Zagreus. Dusa has been an amazing help already."  You tilted your head to Dusa who blushed.

"O-oh it is not a problem! I'm happy to help!" Dusa murmured.

"Dusa is amazing isn't she? Our hardest worker for sure." Zagreus praised, he sounded so proud of her. 

"Oh oh my, excuse me! I- I need to get cleaned up." Dusa rushed out, her blush visible even with the dust

"Oh dear." Zagreus said. "We might have been a bit much. But it is good that she hears it. Goodness knows Father doesn't understand how hard she works for this house."

You weren't quite sure what to say. You didn't want to take sides yet or ever if it can be avoided. You have seen too many times what happens when two gods get into a fight with each other. 

"You'll have to forgive me but Dusa is right. A hot bath sounds like a dream right now." You smiled at him, glad for the excuse. 

"Of course! I will leave you to it, Y/N!" Zagreus nodded and waved goodbye as he left.

You sighed. Hopefully this room will be worth the trouble.

🌙💤💤🌙

You couldn't remember the last time you felt so relaxed. There was nothing like a hot bath, you mused.

You tore off a part of the warm bread and popped it into your mouth. You eyed the pomegranate but went for the olive. Save the best for last you thought.

You laid on top of the covers, feeling like the most spoiled being alive. You went for another olive.

 

What a day.  But at least you were moving forward and now there was a job for you to do. 

inevitably, you thought about Hypnos. He was still at work, you last heard. You knew he slept on the job but that wasn't a rest. Not really. 

You thought about what he said before. How being more powerful than your sisters. No one ever said that, why would they? It is clear what the gods liked. 

Hermes may have the only exception (at least until Hypnos) that enjoyed her powers but even then he never said what Hypnos did. 

Hermes had always pushed a little more, made her try harder to be a little more quick and clever. Your older brother in everything but blood. Hermes had been one of the few people You missed other than your sisters.

He did travel to the underworld sometimes. Maybe you could see him again. Give him letters for your sisters. 

Your eyes drifted closed, the dark red 

canopy were the last thing you saw before sleep overtook You. 

🌙💤💤🌙

There were sounds outside your door. You blinked at the candles by your bedside. They were much lower than before you went to sleep. The only sign that any time had passed at all.

You frowned at your door. It sounded like an argument. You stood and quietly walked to the door. You pressed your ear against it. 

But the bloody thing was so thick, you weren't sure what was being said. 

But you weren't going to just stand there especially after being woken up so rudely. You looked around your chambers for a weapon. Just in case.

You frowned when you realized there was nothing. You would just have to be ready to slam the doors.

With a deep breath, you pushed your bedchambers open. 

The two men outside went quiet. Hypnos and another man You didn't know stood before you.

"Great, just great. Now look at what you did." Hypnos snapped at the other man. 

"Me?" The man snapped back. He was about the same height as Hypnos but unlike Hypnos he wore only dark colors. His scythe loomed over all three as it gleamed even the candlelight. 

"Yes you!" Hypnos grumbled. He turned to You, his normal smile gone. And you couldn't help but notice how much deeper the black circles have gotten. 

"Y/N, I'm sorry. You will have to forgive us for our lack of manners. You can go back to sleep now." Hypnos turned back to the man. "Brother, I think our 'little talk' is done for now. You should be getting back to work right?" Hypnos' tone was sharp.

You didn't realize he could sound like that. Also brother? 

The man frowned, and looked at You then at Hypnos.

"Fine, but you have a duty to the house. You need to grow up at some point." 

Then he turned on his foot and walked away. 

Once he was out of sight, Hypnos sighed as he looked at you. He was floating, the candles highlighted his face.

"I didn't know you had a brother." You stepped out of your bedchambers. You were only in a draped linen gown, a little inappropriate but you were too curious not to know.

"Two brothers, Thanatos and Charon. You just 'met' my twin, Thanatos." Hypnos said.

You could hear the exhaustion in his voice and your heart twisted. You will ask more about his brothers later. 

"Have you gotten any sleep?" You felt silly asking the god of sleep if he got any rest.  But those dark circles were all the proof you needed.

"Sure, I fall asleep on all time especially on the job!" Hypnos' smiled meanly, his hands spread out in a mock shrug.

"I mean real sleep." You crossed your arms. "Surely, the naps you take aren't enough." 

Almost out of nowhere, a thought came. 

"Wait, what exactly are you doing when you napping?" You asked. 

Hypnos raised an eyebrow and silent took over.

"Does it matter?" He finally responded. 

"It matters. At least to me." You didn't know what to make of this whole argument. There was something you were missing but you don't know what.

Hypnos was silent as he stopped floating. He walked closer, his light golden eyes not leaving your own eyes. You resisted stepping back, staying in place with your arms crossed. You cursed how warm you felt when Hypnos stopped in front of you. 

"My brother is the God of Death. He gets those last few minutes of a human's life. Unbelievably terrifying for those poor humans I imagine." Hypnos leaned forward, his hand pressed against the wall, next to your waist. 

You could feel a blush crawl up your neck and cheeks. "And what do you get?" You asked, hating the small tremble in your voice. 

"One third. Sometimes more than that. Slowly over the years. When I sleep, I can go to humans and give them sleep or take away any sleep they want." 

 

Hypnos' eyes were beautiful and you felt so exposed.

"So you haven't been getting much real sleep at all." You said, tearing your eyes away. On impulse, you reached up to touch the obol. You heard his breath hitched. 

You had to put a stop to this. Or you would do something very foolish.

"Right then come along." You grabbed his wrist and pulled him into your bedchamber.

"Ah…" Hypnos sounded unsure. 

"You need some sleep. I can't trust that you will if I leave you alone in your bedroom." Your blush was getting worse.  "Also I doubt I will be able to get any more sleep. So I'm just going to keep an eye on you while I finish up some letters." 

You cleared off the bed and gestured towards your bed. 

Hypnos just stood there. "You don't-"

You waved his words away. "No one will bother you in here, so just try to get a nap in." 

You sat down at your desk, feeling very foolish. You grabbed a blank paper and started writing down tasks for the library.

You heard Hypnos moved around and settled in your bed. You thought you heard him murmured something but didn't turned around to look. 

 

Eventually you heard his soft breathing. This time you did look. He didn't get under the cover but did take one of the pillows and was on the opposite side you slept on. 

If anyone asked why you allowed this, you just say you were helping your husband as a wife should.

Nothing more, nothing less.

You nodded, and tried not to think how your heart fluttered earlier.

🌙💤💤🌙

Your eyes blinked open. Frowning in confusion, you looked down at your papers.  A blanket slipped off your shoulders and pooled around your feet. 

Last night ( or day) memories flooded back. You had fell asleep at your desk. 

You turned to look at your bed but Hypnos was gone. You didn't like how disappointed you felt. No need for that for that, you scolded yourself. You grapped the blanket to return it. 

 

Only when you got closer, did you see what Hypnos left behind. 

On the bed, a bottle of nectar and a note was tucked under the bottle.

'Thanks.' No name or anything, not that You needed one. 

 

There was however a picture of an smiling face next to it.

"Oh Hypnos." You laughed. 

Oh...

Oh dear what have You gotten yourself into to?

🌙💤💤🌙

[silksandcravats]

All Tied Up - Viscount!Kylo

Once again I find myself taking my sweet time with the backstory kylo piece so in its place please accept another piece of viscount!kylo smut <3

Lady Ren stumbles across a rather indecent piece of literature which leads to her taken certain sexual liberties with her husband OR reader insert ties Kylo to the bed.

masterlist

Warnings/contents: fem!reader, bondage, PIV sex, unprotected sex, regency era, reader still has limited sexual knowledge, historical inaccuracies probably

You fidgeted with the ribbons in your hand, turning them over and over again. Blue felt like as good a colour as any to use. It was a wicked idea, surely not one that might be expected from a gently bred lady such as yourself. But then, the idea wasn’t originally yours, that terribly indecent book was to blame. And it’s not like you sought the book out! You had only been seeking out the newest Jane Austen novel, which had the town abuzz (though the opinion of the female author herself was rather mixed). 

You, unfortunately, had been rather late to hearing about the work, meaning there was not a copy to be spared in all of Mayfair. Not to be deterred, you had linked arms with your ladies maid, and bribed one of your coachmen a whole two pounds to take you into the city. (The act of bribery had become necessary after the man expressed concern that the Viscount might not approve of your excursion, he was right of course but you were not easily dissuaded.)

Whilst scouring the shelves of that London bookshelf, you noticed a book at the end of the row had been turned down so the spine was hidden and pushed back slightly as if someone had been trying to hide it. Upon further inspection you found the title to be, “The art of Basketweaving”. 

How curious, you thought to yourself, turning the book over in your hands. Why would anyone have need to hide this? 

It took only a brief look inside for you to realise the book had nothing to do with baskets at all. Your cheeks grew very hot and you slammed the book shut, not wanting to be caught reading it, at least not here. And so in the end you returned to Mayfair with a very different sort of book.

Which lead you up to now, sitting in your bedchambers, awaiting your husband who should return from parliament any time now. You turned the book open to study the position once more. It was the most devious, most erotic drawing you had ever seen. The way the man’s wrists had been crossed over and snuggly tied to the bedpost, the way the woman on top appeared to be lowering herself onto him, you had to admit you hadn’t even known it was possible!

You slammed the book quickly when you heard approaching footsteps you knew belonged to your husband. You hid the book in the top drawer of your writing desk, beneath loose stationery, and pushed the door shut.

The Viscount used your first name to greet you, coming into the room just as you tossed the ribbons onto the bed.

“Hello darling,” you smiled turning to face him. You felt slightly nauseous as you watched his eyes flicker briefly to the ribbon on the bed. You made yourself take a deep breath as he turned back to you, trying to force your nerves to calm, he didn’t know what you were up to, he couldn’t.

“I did not expect to find you here at this time of day,” he spoke walking towards you. You hated when he looked at you this way - like he already knew all of your secrets, but you knew you couldn’t look away, that would be as good as branding yourself with the word “guilty”.

“I was hoping we might enjoy each other’s company for a while, before dinner,” you did your best to sound innocent, snaking your arms around his neck.

“Is that so?” He queried, his hands coming down to grasp your waist.

“Yes,” you breathed, tipping your face up to meet his. He kissed you briefly, before pulling back.

“And what might be the occasion?” 

“No occasion,” you shook your head, tugging slightly at his cravat. He hummed thoughtfully but didn’t reply, allowing you to pull the material free. You knew he was suspicious, but he didn’t push, allowing you to pull through his layers. His hands roamed you, undressing you at a much slower pace than you were him. And so when you finished you splayed your hands across his chest, and leaned forward, kissing slowly up his torso. 

“You’re very eager,” he noted, finally removing your drawers.

“Is such a sin to want one’s husband?” You looked up at him through your lashes, hoping to replace his curiosity with lust.

“Not at all,” He smirked, pulling your now naked form closer to him and kissing you again. You knew you had to be careful here, one wrong move and you would end up below him, and then you might as well forget your plans. You let your hands roam him a moment longer and slowly, slowly backed him up to the bed and then-

“I know you left Mayfair today,” He broke away, speaking down to you. Your brows furrowed.

“How did you-”

“I gave him five pounds.” 

He then took you by surprise, dropped back on the bed, and pulling you along on top of him. This was good, now he was right where you wanted him. 

“Five?” You gasped, trying to linger on the topic of staff rather than your unauthorised outing. “We shall be out a coachman when he runs off with his new fortune.” 

His fingertips grazed the flesh of your hips, tracing your skin, his touch was sinful but you couldn’t allow yourself to bask in it now, you needed his hands higher up. Your situation was still quite precarious after all, he might flip you onto your back at any moment.

“I don’t know what was more foolish, you leaving Mayfair or thinking I wouldn’t know,” he admonished. You grasped his hands, feeling pleased when he cooperated, and dragged them up slowly.

“I did bring Daisy along,” you pointed out, frowning innocently.

“I’m beginning to believe I allow you too many liberties, perhaps I ought to take you in hand,” He spoke suggestively, the meaning of his words not lost on you. His eyes were darkening, you were running out of time, if you were going to act it had to be now.

“Actually,” you leaned in.

All at once, you took over. In a speed even you hadn’t known you possessed, you snatched up your hair ribbons, which were already within arms reach, and shoved his wrists against the headboard, tossing one over the other and tied them to the spot, quickly and firmly. You prayed it was tight enough.

“I should like to take a few more liberties before the day is through,” your lips ghosted over his, your stomach lurched at the boldness of your actions but you held your composure.

“You devilish woman,” he pulled his head back from you, leaning against the pillow to look up at your handiwork. He survived the bonds for a moment but made no effort to yank free, instead he sighed.

“That was very clever of you darling,” he admitted, turning his gaze from his hands to meet you again. “But what do you plan to do now that you have me?”

“A great many things I should think,” you spoke boldly. You reached down and grasped his length, first loosely, then you tightened a bit, give him a few teasing strokes. You watched proudly as his already partially hard cock grew firmer in your grip, fully standing at attention now. Still in the first bloom of marriage, you hadn’t mastered his body yet. You were still learning the best ways to touch and tease. 

A few drops were beginning to collect at his tip so you swiped your thumb along his slit, collecting the moisture, the contact making him hiss. And then, feeling incredibly vulgar, you lifted your thumb to your mouth and licking slowly. Kylo let out a shameless moan in response, watching you with great interest. This was going very well indeed.

“And where might my sweet little wife get such a wicked idea from?” He quirked a brow, watching your hand work him. Even now, bound to the bed he looked calm and collected, and perhaps even somehow still in control. In fact, he looked almost as if he was lying in the garden of your country home, basking in the summer sun. 

You didn’t answer. He was fully and entirely erect now and so you pulled away, leaning up on his thighs and looking down at him with determination. Your hand slipped between your legs and you touched yourself, pushing two fingers inside of yourself and moving them in a sort of scissoring motion the way Kylo always did before he took you. It wasn’t the same of course, your fingers were smaller and you couldn’t work yourself open the same way, but you did your best given your position. 

“If you need help wife, you need but ask,” he chimed, watching you touch yourself. His demeanour was still collected but there was a hunger in his eyes, clearly you weren’t the only one who wished it was his fingers plunged inside of you.

“That’s quite alright husband,” you shook your head, pulling your fingers away and moving above him. You grasped him again aligning himself to your opening and taking a deep breath.

“Go ahead, darling.”

Perhaps he was asking you to hurry along because he was eager, but it was also possible his words were encouraging, and you couldn’t have him thinking you were nervous, so you briskly lowered yourself all the way down, filling yourself to the brim. You both moaned loudly at your action. 

You hadn’t been able to open yourself up as well as he does, so the stretch of him burned more deeply than you were used to causing you to wince. Being on top you knew you had all the time you would like to adjust, but you couldn’t give your husband the satisfaction of knowing how affected you were.

And so you adjusted slightly and, -consequential soreness be damned- you began rocking yourself on top of him, up and down. The third time you moved you went too far and he slipped out of you. You nearly cursed but instead you simply repositioned and tried again. 

It took you a few tries to set a rhythm, and Kylo, knowing when and when to not tease his wife, kept his amusement to himself as best he could while you gathered your bearings. Finally, you slipped into a fluid pattern, bouncing on top of him rather pleasantly.

Whenever Kylo bedded you, he fully sheathed himself with every single thrust, knocking against something deep inside of you, and he couldn’t help but notice that now that it was your turn you made sure to never drop all the way down. Not because you didn’t enjoy the feeling, he knew you liked it quite a bit, but rather he realised it was too intense for you to subject yourself to. 

It felt wonderful to have him this way, but it was taking quite a bit of energy to maintain your pace and you were beginning to develop a newfound sense of respect that he was able to ravish you so frequently and for so long. You knew you’d be able to finish this way, and you were fairly sure he could too, and so you willed yourself to carry on. It wasn’t until you begin to pant softly that Kylo couldn’t resist speaking up.

“You seem to be overexerting yourself, dear, shall I take over for you?” He cooed, his voice sweet and heavy like honey. It was a tempting proposition, to roll over and let him have you, but you finally held power in your grasps, and who knows when you might have it again?

“N-no,” you shook your head violently, picking up the speed even though your muscles were screaming, begging you to stop.

“Very well, come here then,” he nodded once, urging you toward him. You complied, sliding your hands further up his chest and leaning down to kiss him. Once he had your mouth on him he began to move beneath you, rocking up in time with you so that the next time you came down he slid farther inside of you knocking against your cervix making you screech his name, and then he did it again, and again.

“Touch yourself for me,” he groaned against your mouth. And so you did without thinking, having to shift in the process so you could reach, which only allowed him to further space to thrust up into you. You couldn’t believe it, he was topping from the bottom? 

“Oh Kylo!” you exclaim, jolting when your fingers found your own little bud.

“That’s it darling,” he groaned, his own composure beginning to cripple, “come with me.” Your chest tightened, your rocking had grown sloppy and he was doing the bulk on the work now, he pushed up into you once, twice more and then your world shattered. Your eyes squeezed shut and your head tilted back, your mouth falling ajar. You felt him finish inside of you, gushing around your walls. 

You were breathing heavily, even after the effects of your release had faded, feeling utterly and completely exhausted.

“That was excellent my love,” he spoke, and before you had the chance to free him, he tugged away from the bonds all on his own. The ribbons fell to the bed and you realised he had merely been allowing you to believe you had him subdued. He leaned up to wrap his arms around you, pulling you down to the bed. In instant, you were lying on your back and he on his side, holding you tenderly and wrapping you up in sheets. 

“But in the future, I should think it better suited if you were the one in bondage, dear wife.” He dropped a swift kiss on your cheek. “And we will be having a discussion later about your little trip.”

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[emisonme]

This will be big but i felt like sharing my thoughs. I love camila, so so much…but I feel like sometimes people are praising her too much. Camila loves fame, no matter how many of you deny it, it’s pretty obvious that she does. I’ve seen plenty of arguments on twitter regarding the 4H vs C topic and I can’t help but notice some people saying stuff like “camila didn’t choose to be in this position”, “all the girls treated her like shit when it wasn’t even up to her decide”. Well obviously I know the feud between the 5H girls was fake, but it really messes with me that people still continue to paint camila as the victim. Even tho camila may have not betrayed the other girls as they tried to make it seem, she sure as hell accepted this full of privileges position she was given since the beginning. And I’m not saying this is a bad thing, because honestly which one of us would deny such opportunity, if we were in her place? But most of us and I’m also talking about me, tend to forget that camila is also a person who has negative traits, not only positives. Unfortunately one of her biggest negatives, is that she grew to love the spotlight. And if you really think about it, it makes sense since she was always so shy around people and when she got a taste of the “pop star” life, she felt mesmerised by it. From my point of view, as soon as she got that taste she also started craving the “bigger” things. Big arena concerts, awards, people loving her. For example lauren might love her job as an artist, but she undeniably hates the fame that comes with it. She’s just in it because she truly wants to share a piece of her soul and justify the definition of a true artist. And I’m not saying that mila is not, she sure as hell wants to create art. But if you ask me, the difference between these two is that lauren would be completely content with singing in a room full of people who simply appreciate her art, whilst camila would prefer to be in an arena full of people who sing her songs and scream her name. Not that laure wouldn’t like that, but I think you get the point. And I don’t know if anyone noticed, but until a few years ago well actually before the pandemic started, her management continued to push down the image of this “goofy innocent” girl who was happy all the time. She also pushed it herself because that was her job! No matter how much we think we know her,camila is still a pop star in the music industry who plays a part, just like everyone else who works in that damned department. And based on the above I’d like to point out that (no matter how many of you disagree with this) nobody is forcing camila to stay in the closet. Yes I know I sound ridiculous but hear me out. There isn’t a single contract which can legally force someone to hide their sexuality. Yes her management may have warned her not to come out in fear of losing profits and even blackmailed her, but at the end of the day it’s her choice. If she desperately wanted to come out as we all make it seem, she would’ve done it by now. The fact that she doesn’t, should tell us, that afterall she does care about her image. Even if that’s taking a toll on her now, it was her decision to follow that path. It was her decision to stay in the closet, it was her decision to accept the pr with shawn and it was her decision to keep playing the “happy” girlfriend to the media. No matter how much she was manipulated by this hell hole, camila is a pretty clever person. If she didn’t want any of this and simply wanted to be authentic to herself and the rest of the world, she simply wouldn’t care if she lost the title of the pop princess. But she does care. And it’s completely normal at this point, cause in this industry either you lose yourself or you come out stronger. Unfortunately I believe that camila’s case belongs to the first occasion. I don’t think that present camila we see in interviews or shows or whatever is the real camila. That camila is long gone. Anyway sorry if this was exhausting and thanks to anyone who read it all,cause I really wanted to share this with someone

someone

Good Lord, Anon, that's a lot to unpack. I will start by saying, I agree with some, and disagree with some of what you had to say. Now, where to start...

You say it still messes with you, that everyone still portrays Camila as the victim. Are you going to deny that Camila WAS/IS victimized? The truth is, they were ALL victimized. They are ALL victims of an abusive Industry.

You said, "she sure as hell accepted this full of privileges position she was given since the beginning." You are either forgetting, or just plain don't care, that Fifth Harmony was a highly controlled entity. There was no choosing, or "accepting" privileges. They each did what they were told to do, said what they were told to say, and acted the way they were told to act. They were each given a role to play, and they were contractually obligated to play that role.

Yes, they were contractually obligated to act a certain way. There has been ample proof given, that none of the girls had any control over their PUBLIC image. Camila still has no control over her PUBLIC image, because there has been ample proof, she is still operating under her original contract.

Did Camila choose to sign that original contract? Yes, she did. Did she read that original contract? According to Lauren, probably not. None of them did. Did Camila agree to sign her solo contract? Yes, she did. But as I've explained before, if she wanted to continue in the music industry, she had no choice but to sign the solo contract they offered her. That solo contract is still connected to her original contract.

Camila is a human being. We ALL have positive and negative traits. Camila, all the ladies of 5H, you and me, we all have our positives and negatives. None of us are perfect.

You said, "one of her biggest negatives, is that she grew to love the spotlight." Why is that a negative? Hell, they ALL wanted the spotlight. Every person who gets into the Entertainment Industry, wants to get themselves in the spotlight. They all want to succeed in the field of their choice. To succeed, they have to garner the attention, and live in the "spotlight", in one way, or another.

Every one of them auditioned on a NATIONALLY TELEVISED talent show. They wouldn't have done that, if they didn't want to be noticed, and hopefully thrust into the spotlight of success. They ALL wanted that spotlight of success to be as solo artists. It's didn't quite work out that way. But, they ALL chose to try and achieve that spotlight as a group.

If one has been paying attention, from the beginning, Camila made no bones about her desired dream. She has stated from the beginning, she wanted to be a "pop star". Of course she wanted the spotlight. Lauren has said, from the beginning, she wanted to be "famous and travel the world". She wanted to be a famous star, in the spotlight.

Since you have chosen to compare Camila and Lauren, I'll answer to them. You seem to think there is this big chasm between the two. There really isn't. The only difference is the outcome, thus far. Lauren STILL wants the spotlight and fame, she just wants it on her terms. The problem is, it's damn near impossible to get that success on ones own terms, in an Industry that insists on dictating the terms.

That's a more recent decision on Lauren's part, by the way. You seem to be conveniently forgetting, that until 2019, Lauren also "chose" to play the game on THEIR terms. It was most likely, a two year PR contract, with a drug addicted gang-banger that turned her off of THE GAME. Lauren was pissed, that after all that, her debut album got shelved in 2019. I DON'T BLAME HER!!! I'm sure that also contributed to her decision, that THEIR TERMS suck ass.

Does Camila "crave" the big concerts, accolades, and people loving her? Yes, she does. They ALL do, or they wouldn't have signed solo contracts after putting 5H on hiatus. Instead, they would have said "this Industry sucks" and walked away. They didn't. They ALL craved more.

Lauren wants the same thing Camila has, just on her terms. Lauren doesn't "hate fame". She hates the negative side of fame. She hates having her life dictated by terms and schedules. She hates being told what to say, and how to act. She hates that fans get all up in her business.

She loves the nicer side of fame. She wants to see a lot of people come and see her perform. She loves to be on stage and see her fans singing and dancing to her music. She appreciates the accolades. She loves the love she gets from her fans. She would love even more, if her fans would multiply, and buy and stream the hell out of her music, instead of always bitching, telling her who she is, and how she should be, and getting all up in her damn business.

All one has to do, is listen to Lauren and the anger inside her about all this mess. She wants more. She wants more than a fucking "room full of people" enjoying her art. She wants a stadium full of people enjoying her art. WHO THE FUCK WOULDN'T. She just wants that stadium full of people to enjoy her art, and not expect more than that from her. I'm sure Camila would appreciate the same damn thing.

Unfortunately, that's simply not how the music industry is set up, these days. The difference is, Camila has accepted the fact, that she IS the product. Lauren has not. Lauren don't want to be a product. She wants her music/art to be the product.

I've said it a million times, the music industry hardly sells music, anymore. The music Industry sells the artist. The music has become a bi-product of the Artist. The Industry knows which artists will sell, and which ones won't. They know what image will sell, and which ones won't. Be the artist THEY want you to be, THEY'LL make you a star, and maybe even famous. If not, good luck.

Finally, you are completely right. There isn't a contract out there, that says someone can't come out of the closet. That would be blatant discrimination, and wouldn't pass the muster of the legal system. But, when you sign away control of your own image in a contract, that gives the contract holder the rights to dictate what your PUBLIC image will be. If they want you to have a straight PUBLIC image, then you'll have a straight PUBLIC image. If THEY want you to have a "good girl next door" image, then that's the PUBLIC image you'll have. You signed away your rights to be your authentic self, when you signed away the rights to control how others see you, period!!!

IN MY OPINION, Camila has come out of the closet so damn many times, I can't even count any more. She just has to do so, in a way that isn't obvious to those who have control over how others see her. Take her last video, for instance. When one listens to terms she chooses to use, and does a bit of research, you'll discover, what I believe is the hidden meaning behind that video. If I'm correct in MY THINKING, she has yet again, screamed her truth from the rooftops, for those who choose to listen, and understand.

As for the PR contracts...I was the first person to say, Camila made the choice to sign into those particular contracts. When one signs away control over their own public image, it also allows those in control to dictate that one MUST enter into PR contracts to help THEM present the PUBLIC image THEY want for that particular artist. The artist gets a say in which person that PR is with, simply because they HAVE to agree to sign the contract with that particular person.

So, did Camila agree to sign into this PR contract with the human hair ball? She absolutely did....And NO ONE should be surprised by it. It is quite clear that this shit has been in the making, since June/July of 2015. Hell, after that shit show with the British Bore, even the majority of the fandom was asking for it. The timing was right, and here we are.

Lastly, Camila is always stepping out of the closet, like I said above. IN MY OPINION, she wants her fans to know who she truly is, but that doesn't mean she wants to tell the world in definitive terms. Like Lauren, she wishes people could simply appreciate the music, and leave per private life out of it, but she also knows that's a pipe dream, and not reality.

She knows, the second she decides to speak her truth aloud, her career takes, yet another, blow. I also think, that's one of the reasons THEY, through the media, make sure her ignorant youth is continuously brought up. The more she has to fight to get through that hardship, the more she will want to keep her truth a secret. (yes, a definite manipulation tactic)

Camila could decide to say, fuck it all, and come out with her truth at any time, after her contract is up. She could also decide never to PUBLICLY come out. It's her choice, unless people in power decide to take that choice away from her.

Whitney Houston took her truth with her to the grave. Taylor lives with her truth, one foot in the closet, and one foot out. That's basically what Camila is doing now. IN MY OPINION. Her public foot is in the closet, and her music/art foot is out. If people cared more about the music/art, they would get the authentic truth. If you care more about her public image, you'll get exactly what THEY want her to be.

People try to tell you, and others this all the damn time. Take the recent interviews. If you notice, Camila, and others are always saying how vulnerable, honest, and authentic she is, IN HER ART. Her truth is in her craft, whether acting or music. Her PUBLIC image, is just that, an image to sell to the PUBLIC. Everyone in the Entertainment Industry has one...Even Lauren. Yes, she did play the game. She still has her toe in the game, she just isn't playing it at a high level, right now...and, unfortunately for her, it shows!!!

There! I answered your book with a damn novel. As always, I could be wrong with my opinions, but they are my opinions!!!!!! !! !!!!

[phantomtrader19]

Phantom of the opera 1st & 3rd preview review

PART 1

Auction - I was absolutely overjoyed to see the chandelier onstage!! I personally loved the new set, it was sad to see the angel had gone but I’m so glad they put the homage to Maria bjornson in the centre where the angel was as seen below (it’s modelled after Maria I overheard)

The cloth covered piece behind the chandelier is a broken middle section of the inner proscenium that when the overture starts re-assembles and rises into place absolutely stunning addition!!

some words were changed

“Lot 666, a chandelier until recently believed to be destroyed... *normal lyrics* “Our workshops have restored it and fitted it with wiring for the new electric light so that we may get a hint of how magnificent it will look when re-assembled” so like the restaged tour lyrics.

Standard auction really not much change but haunting as always!

Overture - perhaps a new sound system? But the overture was absolutely thunderous and I was LIVING for it, lighting design is new and a lot more flashes of light which upped the dramatic feel to it! The chandelier was new and I thought it looked absolutely wonderful it certainly didn’t disappoint it’s a lot bigger than the original which was a cool change. The curtains rose like before and the inner section of the proscenium was sort of like a centre piece and as the overture gets to the middle part where the music sort of slows then dramatically picks back up again (I hope I’ve explained that okay 😂) the dust covers on everything are very swiftly removed and it looks beautiful. The audience went crazy for the overture and it was just amazing to witness!

Hannibal - Saori’s cadenza was so fierce and you could tell she was having a blast up there! Again she got an applause as she came out on stage. The ensemble was fabulous as expected costumes again all the same but fresher as they were all brand new or from the uk tour 2020. Christine doesn’t come out with the ballet girls she joins just before they all do that lovely en pointe section which Lucy does as she is a trained dancer as well! A couple ballet girls now wear their wigs in curlers and tied up in ribbons to give that extra feel of a dress rehearsal which I’m still to figure out if I liked. Yukina Hasebe one of the ballerinas wears a black wig in a plaited ponytail with a black fringe which was interesting but they all wear their regular degas wigs the rest of the show. Everything else remained relatively the same.

Think of me (Carlotta) nothing different I don’t think, Saori sounds brilliant she’s so sassy I love her! Her tantrum is brilliant as she’s so tiny and all this anger bursts out of her it’s really funny!

Lily was also absolutely divine in this part aswell gorgeous voice and good comedic timing.

Greg Castiglioni has a nice voice but not too convinced on his portrayal as piangi not my fave but not bad! (I miss Paul tabone so much!)

Think of me (Christine) My heart was pounding as the piano started I was so eager and excited to hear Lucy safe to say she doesn’t disappoint she’s so radiant and has the voice of a bell, her cadenza is the movie cadenzas but higher and it was fantastic Think of me was much the same but again the set looked so bright and new it really was gorgeous, I absolutely love the new addition of the mini proscenium inside the outer one it frames the stage just beautifully! Rhys’ part was great aswell lovely voice :)

Angel of music - much the same again, the ballerinas have a bar where they practise upstage left which was a nice touch. Lyric change to -

Meg - “your face Christine, so strange”

Christine - “I’m changing Meg”

Meg - “No one’s changing”

In the third preview the lyrics changed to

Christine - “he’s with me even now”

Meg - “Your hands are cold”

Christine - “all around me”

Meg - “Christine are you alright”

Christine - “it frightens me”

Meg - “don’t be frightened”

So reverted back to something similar to the original lyrics! Ellie is a lovely Meg and her wig is auburn and it looks lovely!

Dressing room - everything the same

The mirror - everything the same again killian has a great voice and sounded very threatening! when the phantom brings Christine through the mirror Raoul calls out angel and instead of the title song beginning the music continues into a dramatic swell no where near as long as the restaged tour though.

Title song - Raoul leaves the dressing room as the title song begins and the ballerinas walk onstage congregate round Raoul and then they all walk off as Lucy and Killian appear on the bridge so no more doubles a bit of a restaged tour moment again I’m still to figure out how I felt. There seems to be extra set pieces like flat cutouts of staircases which move with the bridge which I really enjoyed, I think it added more depth to the stage.

The first preview the candles on the candelabras were poking out of the floor as they usually did and Lucy and killian appeared on the boat and however the candelabras didn’t rise which was confusing however they did in the third preview apparently it was a technical malfunction so I was very happy to see it fixed as the lair looked really bare without them.

I Have brought you - nothing different

Music of the night - mostly the same but it was like the phantom could put Christine to sleep when he sung close your eyes her eyes closed and she seemed to kind of lose consciousness it was a really nice touch to see how much control the phantom had over Christine. The catch is gone now :(

The morning after/ I remember - again the same

Stranger than you dreamt it - Lucy’s acting in this scene was just out of this world you can tell her Christine was absolutely horrified by the sight of the deformity and killian was fantastic!

Magical lasso - same as normal

Notes/ prima Donna - exact same as before except i don’t know if it was just me but the curtain behind the manager’s desk seemed a lot larger which was nice as it filled up a bit more of the empty space. Raoul wore a brown bow tie for this scene. Saori and Lily both were fantastic in prima donna would love to see lily again and will most likely be seeing Saori anyway in my upcoming visits. Rhys was really good in this song he was very clever and lovely belt. Francesca Ellis is definitely a standout in the show her voice is so unique unlike any other I’ve ever heard her acting is also 10/10! Managers I think could work on their timing for the comedic parts but that’s the only complaint Matt and Adam are great otherwise :)

Il Muto - lovely to see Manon Taris back on stage and James Hume and I want to say Hywel Dowsell were amusing to watch aswell! Saori and Edward court as Don Atillio were great Lucy was so cute as Serafimo!

The ballet - all the ballerinas were gorgeous! And the male ballet dancer was fantastic! Andre was trembling like crazy when trying to introduce the ballet and engaged with the audience quite a bit which was fun, the ballerinas screamed a lot when they noticed the phantoms shadow on the backdrop and the music had a build up behind the actual original score which made the reveal of buquet’s body more dramatic!

The Rooftop - Lucy looked gorgeous in her rooftop costume! She seemed genuinely distressed and her acting again just shone through, Rhys at the beginning was giving me Hadley Fraser/ restaged tour vibes coming off as dismissive of Christinebut he begins to soften Lucy’s soar was sublime probably one of the best I’ve heard it just floated from her!!!

All I ask of you - Rhys and Lucy had a lot of chemistry and she was beaming from ear to ear when Rhys sung to her. Beautifully done

All I ask of you reprise - the controversial Pegasus.... would it have been nice for the phantom to appear on top of the angel? Yes, is the Pegasus statue THAT bad absolutely not it was beautiful! Killian was fab! Loved the sustained note on “when he heard you siiiiiiinggggggggg” liked a lot!!!

CHANDELIER CRASH WAS SO COOL, killian appeared in box five and shot sparks from his staff essentially shooting the chandelier down. It crashed like it did in the original and swung really fast over the audience and made an explosion noise which was changed at the third preview the music sort of rumbled instead of the explosion which worked better as the explosion was rather odd since the chandelier didn’t collapse or like the restaged tour chandelier spew fake glass.

INTERVAL The blue curtain is GORGEOUS

[renegadewangs]

Enigmatic Gnomance

Last night was movie night in my Discord server and we watched Sherlock Gnomes. Needless to say, things escalated very fast and I wrote a 2000+ words one-shot regarding the ending. Everyone liked it for some reason??? So here it is! (I’m not an expert on the gnome cinematic universe, please forgive me if I got a little detail wrong.)

Characters: Sherlock Gnomes, Watson Fandom: Sherlock Gnomes Pairings: (Lord help me,) Gnomes/Watson Warnings/rating: None. Summary: With the movie’s events behind them, Sherlock Gnomes ruminates on difficult matters.

Enigmatic Gnomance

The sun had set on the backyard when at last, Gnomes and Watson returned to their little home. Mrs. Udderson was nowhere to be seen, for which Watson found himself quite grateful. After all that'd occurred tonight, he wasn't in the mood for her invasive mooing. Gnomes hobbled over to the nearby armchair and settled himself down there. The deep crack in his leg instantly caught Watson's eye. He wasn't really a doctor- such a title was no more than an accessory in the world of gnomes. Even so, he found himself yearning to fix the injury somehow. He was responsible in a way, he felt. He'd been weak and he'd gotten cocky, which had made him a blind and unwilling pawn in Moriarty's little scheme.

But there was nothing to be done about it now; porcelain would never heal. Even with glue, Gnomes ran the risk of losing his leg forever if he were ever reckless.

Watson hesitated for a moment, then approached the armchair. His gaze wasn't being met. Gnomes had folded his hands together and was now peering towards his own feet. "Gnomes, ah... Are you alright? Can I get you anything?" he asked awkwardly.

Even with their reunion atop the bridge and their agreement to continue being partners, Gnomes still hadn't quite acknowledged the betrayal. It was maddening. Why wasn't he scolded? For Gnomes to come to terms with his rude dismissal of others had been the entire point, that much was true. However, to not see the gargoyles' true nature and be used by their master... That had been worthy of a good scoff, surely. Or at the very least an indignant sniff. Gnomes could have died, all due to Watson's own naivety. Sure enough, Gnomes didn't reply. The silence was worse than anything else he could have said.

"Gnomes..." Watson trailed off for a moment. Then he decided there was nothing to be gained by keeping his feelings bottled up. That was what'd caused this whole mess in the first place. "It's only us, now. Please, just talk to me."

"... I was ruminating, Watson," said Gnomes, still staring at his feet.

"Oh?"

"Yes, indeed. Ruminating. Quite deeply, I might say. My mind palace lost an entire dimension, attempting to process these hectic thoughts of mine. However, I'm afraid I'm drawing a blank. Perhaps, if you would be so kind, you might refresh my memory?"

The sober, forward nature of Gnomes's words caught Watson off guard. He hadn't known his friend to be so earnest, nor so willing to ask for help, for a very long time. Perhaps the day's events had made a difference after all. But then... Had it been Watson to make Gnomes see sense, or had it been Moriarty's doing? It was best not to think too hard on that, so he attempted to force the notion out of his mind.

"Of course, old friend." Watson placed a hand on the back of the armchair, smiling meekly. "If you need my help, you need only ask for it. Though perhaps... A bit more politely than you used to."

Gnomes uttered a chuckle, bitter as lime(stone). "Hah, quite right," he admitted. "I was wondering... Whether I actually took the time to say how sorry I am."

Watson felt his eyes widen and his body stiffen. Had he heard that correctly? Surely not. "Sorry" was a word not uttered aloud by Gnomes in a long time, short of demanding it from others.

"... What?"

"Quite a bit happened tonight. Moriarty is nothing if not a distraction. I'm certain I said quite a few things- to him and to you. However, it's all a bit of a blur, you see. Did I? Apologize?"

Watson shook his head fiercely. This was all wrong. This was what he'd wanted, and yet... No, he didn't deserve it, did he? "Gnomes- You aren't the one who needs to apologize. I put innocent gnomes in danger- I put you in danger. Moriarty could've won, all because I-I... I thought you'd..."

A hand on Watson's wrist caused any other words to vanish. He looked down to meet Gnomes's eyes. Even more out of place than the gnome's apology was the expression on his face, which Watson couldn't recall ever having seen once in all their years of partnership. What was it? Some sort of turmoil, certainly.

"My dear man, you were right to confront me with my attitude. To treat others in such dreadful a manner is already mortifying to me, in hindsight, but you... You deserved so much more and I fear I took your companionship for granted for the longest time. I'd forgotten just how brilliant you are, and so, you played the game quite well."

"Gnomes... Truly, you don't need to-"

"I am sorry, Watson. More sorry than even my own brilliant mind could ever begin to formulate."

Watson sighed and placed his own hand atop Gnomes's own. "I know. And I'm sorry as well."

For a long moment, nothing was said. Gnomes's eyes merely flitted towards Watson's hand and lingered there. Then, at last, he found his voice again. It had cracked almost as badly as his leg. "... I don't deserve a partner like you. Should you follow Irene's example and find your luck elsewhere, I would not blame you."

"Don't be a fool," Watson replied straight off the bat. "I did not go through so much trouble to teach you a lesson, only to toss away the benefits before I could reap them."

"You were perfectly content to abandon our partnership earlier."

"Well... It wasn't quite a partnership earlier, now was it?"

Gnomes appeared dumbstruck, though only for a moment. Then his lips carved themselves into a grin. "... Fair enough."

Watson took another shuffling step closer to the armchair, leaning forward and eyes narrowing into a bit of a squint. "Are you alright? Your leg... It looks quite damaged."

"It's only a few surface cracks," Gnomes replied, sticking his nose up in the air. "Nothing to worry about. The great Sherlock Gnomes is nothing if not resilient. It is a shame, though. That was my favorite leg."

Watson chuckled dryly. "I don't believe there's anything in this world you love more than yourself."

But Gnomes didn't reply. He merely stared ahead blankly at the wall. Had he gotten lost in his own thoughts again? Watson hadn't thought he'd said anything worth contemplating, nor blocking out.

"... Are you certain you're alright, Gnomes?" he asked.

"I... Yes." Gnomes blinked fiercely and rapped the fingers of his other hand against the armrest of the chair. "It's curious. You are quite clever, Watson, but then... Perhaps, unable to decipher the very same enigma which plagues me."

"An enigma, Gnomes?" Watson repeated. What was there still left to solve, at this point? It must've been significant, if Gnomes himself still struggled to put a finger on it. How tragic, then, that he would assume Watson would be unable to decipher it also. Were the learned lessons being foregone already? He hoped not.

"The time I spent with Irene... Well, surely you recall. It was a jolly good romp for a while, but I always knew she would come second place to the mysteries and the chases. And she came to know this as well. So in the end, a jolly good romp was all it was. I did not think I could ever love someone the way she expected me to."

Indeed, Watson did recall those 'jolly good romps'. He remembered the pain on Irene's face, which grew more severe with every instance where she'd been snubbed. He also remembered her resolution on the day she decided she would get over him. It was so very easy to rope her into his plans because the two of them related to one another. They both knew just how painful it was to be dismissed by Gnomes. They both agreed that the lesson had needed to come sooner and there was nothing left to salvage, but then... Watson hadn't given up quite as much hope as Irene, it turned out. It was a good thing that he hadn't.

"Indeed. But what's that got to do with another puzzle?" he asked.

"When I saw you fall and I heard that dreadful smashing sound... Well, I didn't want to think about it, really. I pushed it from my mind before it could ever take root there, because if I'd allowed that... Well, I'm sure I would've been quite useless for the remainder of the investigation."

"Oh, Gnomes, I didn't mean for you to-"

"It was a clever ploy, of course. I fell for it. Didn't even stop to consider you might catch yourself. That warrants another apology, I believe."

"No, really, it's fine. Perhaps I'd gone too far with that."

Gnomes's hand curled around Watson's wrist more fiercely. He turned his head upwards once again, brow furrowed, features pleading. "Watson," he began softly. "If I'd lost you... If you were truly gone, what would I do with myself? That's what I was ruminating on, you see. It pains me simply to envision the hypothetical, which is to say nothing of what would happen if it were a reality. I've never felt anything of the sort for Irene. So will you tell me, please?"

The situation was surreal. To hear words like that coming from his old friend... Well, the plan truly had been far more effective than Watson had expected it to be, though the result was overwhelming. Perhaps even unnerving. To earn Gnomes's respect and partnership was one thing, but to hear that his presence would've been missed so very dearly... That was more than he'd ever bargained for, or even dared to wish for. He didn't know how to feel now. He didn't understand what was being asked of him.

"... Tell you what, Gnomes?"

"Isn't there someone I love more than myself, or the thrill of the hunt?"

Watson's mind went blank. He felt quite cold, all of a sudden. But then... Also hot at the same time, as if he were standing out in the blazing sun of a warm summer's day. Gnomes's eyes were still on his own, waiting, perhaps deducing. Watson didn't dare look away. He was cornered now- trapped in Gnomes's intense stare.

Before tonight, his response would have been clear. He would have laughed bitterly at the question, then turned away from it. But then... Before tonight, it never would have been asked. Gnomes had never taken such things into consideration until he'd been forced to. To have Gnomes reflect on how much he'd always relied on Watson, that had been the goal. An unexpected side-effect, then, was that Watson now had to reflect on how much he'd relied on Gnomes. He'd wanted be looked at, to be acknowledged, to be praised- to be close to Gnomes, the way he used to when they first began to solve cases.

"I think that... The only one who could ever answer that question is you, Gnomes," he ultimately said.

"I... I need a hint, I believe," Gnomes replied in a bit of a stammer. "Just a clue, a morsel. The tiniest bit of guidance when it comes to deciphering these feelings."

"I'm not much help there, I'm afraid. I may be just as lost as you are."

"Oh... Are you really?" Gnomes paused for a moment, lips pursing and nose crinkling as he mulled it over. "If we're both lost in the same manner, does that not imply we both experience these same feelings?"

"Ah..."

And still, Watson had no true answer to give. Just as Gnomes's brilliant mind failed to form an apology strong enough to do the sentiment justice, so too did Watson's own fail to translate his feelings into words.

-Feelings? Were there feelings after all?

After about ten seconds, Gnomes tore his attention away from Watson's eyes and returned to gazing at his own feet. "Perhaps... It would be presumptuous to expect an answer to this riddle this very night. We are both taken by exhaustion, I'm sure. Delirious with it, perhaps. So..."

Still, no cohesive sentences came to Watson. Even so, he did have a reply, he thought. It wasn't a very clever one, but it was a reply all the same. He leaned forward to press a kiss against Gnomes's cheek. The gesture clearly shocked his friend, for he made a rather funny noise and attempted to jump up out of the chair. His bad leg, however, had other plans. Gnomes slumped backwards before he could ever fully stand upright and Watson caught him by the shoulders with both hands on instinct, cushioning the fall.

"Whaa- Whaaaat... son....!" Gnomes tilted his head backwards to peer up at him. "What...?"

"That was the small clue you were searching for, which ought to help you decipher these feelings of yours," Watson explained with another wry smile.

Gnomes appeared stunned. However, he soon relaxed in Watson's hold and eased himself back into the chair properly. "Indeed, that was quite helpful," he said. "Whatever would I do without your assistance, dear fellow? You truly are indispensable."

"It's good of you to say such things out loud, Gnomes. I expect to hear much more praise in the future."

"Of course!"

Indeed, they were both exhausted and had more than enough time to continue 'ruminating' on their feelings. For now, Watson was quite content to leave it that. Immense progress had already been made, and aside from that... Mrs. Udderson was still lurking high above them.

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Hogwarts No.1 Ship

Fandom: Harry Potter  Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader Word count: 3.4k Summary: You - Rubeus Hagrid’s niece and a surprising slytherin - have a crush on the Slytherin prince himself, but you are sugar and he is spice and there is no world where the two of you would fit together...right? Warning: Swearwordsm concussion, broken bones, but mostly fluffffffffff Requested by the amazing and patient (I’m really sorry it took so long) @onlycherryblossom​: Hi! I love your work and I was wondering if you could right a Draco Malfoy x Reader. you know, the one we talked about. It'd be so awesome! i hope you have a good day/night! (I won’t put our chat in here so that I don’t spoiler anything)

Hogwarts had rarely ever known two students who were as opposite to each other as Draco Malfoy and Y/N Hagrid. Draco - who was the embodiment of how people imagined the stereotype of Slytherin to be - was (most of the time) a prideful, cold, unempathetic prick, while you were a selfless, positive thinking, kind and gentle soul that could‘ve been a descendant of Helga Huffelpuff herself. The two of you did have one thing in common though. Your house. The hat had made you both into Slytherins which was on Draco’s side not surprising at all, but quite a shock for everyone who had talked to you for even a minute. Probably the biggest shock was courtesy of Rubeus Hagris - Half-Giant and your adopted uncle (on his father’s side) - who insisted that the hat must have made a mistake, but was quickly shot down by Dumbledoor who assured that the hat didn‘t make any mistakes. After some initial tumbling though, Hagrid realized that the house didn‘t make the person and that it didn‘t matter in what house you were sorted into, you’d always be his little pumpkin. And he was quite right. Even after you had been a Slytherin for just about five years, you had only grown more kind and loving - having bonded with many people in the other houses and years, but not quite as many in your own house. You’d call Blaze and Millicent maybe something close to friends and Pansy tolerated you which is why you gave her the title of ‘good acquaintances‘, but other than that you didn‘t really have a lot of contact with them in your free time. The most complicated relationship you held though was the one to the aforementioned Draco Malfoy. In a weird twist of fate the two of you somehow became the main ship in Hogwarts (with Harry and Ginny or Harry and Hermione as close second) even though you couldn‘t remember more than two or three times that you had talked to the boy outside of a classroom or study environment. Sure, he had never bullied or teased you which already differentiated you from most of the students, but you simply explained it by the fact that you were a good student - especially in potions class - and behaved well enough to gain a number of house points which made you into a good asset to Slytherin and as such made you a less logical target. Now all in itself that would‘ve been more than fine with you, but for some stupid reason your heart decided to betray you against it‘s better judgement and fall for him. Somehow, even after years of seeing him kick others down and behave like a complete douchebag you couldn‘t help but blush slightly at the mention of his name and feel your heart flutter when you walked by him in the hall or in the common room. The worst part was in potions class where he sat right beside you after Snape deemed your former partner as way too unqualified for one of his best students and exchanged him for Draco. Working with him in and of itself was actually rather nice. He was a good student and did his work thoroughly and mindfully, but you found it hard to concentrate when his hand brushed yours as you read a passage in the book or when he poured ingredients in the coultron that you were stirring. You really tried to ignore your feelings and ban every thought of him, but it seemed like you weren‘t doing the best job at it since your uncle kept asking about what it was that was distracting you all the time. On a rainy October day fairly at the beginning of your fifth year you decided you had enough. You were sitting in your Uncles hut with a plate of more or less edible cookies in front of you and a cup of something that was surely supposed to be tea when you finally gathered the courage to say what you had been meaning to say for weeks now. “Uncle Rubeus, can I ask you something?” Hagrid turned to you with his usual smile as he patted fang who was drooling all over his lap where he had laid his head. “Course ya can pumpkin. What’s it about?” “Uhm...well… you know there is this boy that I-“ “Ohhh Ah see,” Hagrid quickly interrupted you before you could even ask the question, “Ya know, usually I’d be more than happy to help ya with every question you have but ah really don’t thin’ I’m the right person for this, I’m sorry.” A little bit disappointed but not really surprised you just sighed and shook your head, telling him that it was okay, before bidding your goodbyes and making your way back to the castle quietly mulling over what exactly your plan b should be now that plan a had failed and you still had no idea what to do with or how to get rid of your stupid crush on Draco.

“You know what I would do if I were you?“ Ginny asked and pointed the end of her quill at you. The both of you were sitting in a corner of the library where you had planned to help her study for her upcoming potions exam, only for her to basically interrogate you until you admitted that you had an unlucky crush, even though she luckily hadn‘t pushed you to tell her who the guy you had a crush on was. “I‘d probably just tell them, I mean what do you have to lose. Either he‘ll say yes and you‘re happy or he says no and you just avoid him like he doesn‘t even exist - which would honestly be the appropriate reaction if he refuses a snack like you. See, no real downside to it.“ “Oh really? Hmmm, I wonder why you haven‘t told Harry how you feel yet then,“ you teased her and tapped your chin. Ginny‘s face immediately started to rival the colour of her hair and the way she crossed her arms in front of her chest and pouted reminded you of an overgrown toddler - but in a cute way. “I-I don‘t like Harry, okay? I mean I did when I was like ten because he was famous and I was a child,“ she tried to make sure you really knew how silly she wanted you to believe she thought it was by drawing out the word child for a good few seconds before rolling her eyes and looking to the side, “And anyway, it‘s not like he‘d date his best friend’s sister…“ “Oh Gin,“ you immediately felt bad and grabbed one of her hands with yours, “Have you looked at yourself? You‘re amazing and if Harry doesn‘t see that through his stupid invisible cloak and these glasses than he doesn‘t even deserve you.“ “Even though I admit that yes, I am amazing, this isn‘t the topic that we should be conversing about right now, remember? I think there‘s a certain blond Slytherin that you should be worried about more right now.“ Immediately blood shot right to your cheeks and you quickly looked around to make sure no one could‘ve heard her before leaning forward and hissing: “What? No? I don‘t like Draco? Why would you even think that? I never said that he is the one I have a crush on.“ Ginny just raised her eyebrows in an unimpressed manner, leaning back in her chair and picking the quill back up to play around with while she talked. “Listen honey, I‘m not judging you or anything. Don‘t get me wrong, I still and probably will always think Draco is a major asshole and doesn‘t even deserve to breath the same air as you-“ “He isn‘t that bad…“ “Yes he is, but anyways, no matter what I think of him I also know that you are a clever girl that knows how to protect herself and who knows, maybe you‘d even have a good influence on him.“ Images of you and Draco together with your friend group laughing and having fun crossed your mind and you could feel your heartbeat fasten involuntarily. “That‘s all great and good, but like I said, I don‘t have a crush on Draco,“ you gave the hope of getting out of this situation with the lie you‘ve been telling yourself for months still intact one last try, but Ginny didn‘t give it the time of day. “Oh please, I see the way you look at him in the dining hall and how your eyes are always on him when he‘s playing quidditch and just now you defended him even though the two of you aren‘t even friends. My love-radar is pinging like crazy around the two of you which is why I, Ginny Wealey also known as the love witch-“ “No one calls you that,“ you interrupted her only to be shushed by an evil glare. “I, Ginny Weasley, will help you in fulfilling your desire and getting together with Draco and I already have the perfect plan.“ “No no no no, please don‘t! Don‘t do this! Ginny no!“ you tried to make your point clear but she was already cleaning up her stuff and getting ready to leave. “Don‘t worry oh sweet Y/N, the next time we‘ll talk everything will be set in motion,“ she winked before dashing off leaving you standing in her figurative dust with your mouth agape for a few seconds before you let your head sink onto the table. This would definitely take an interesting turn…

After that you definitely started to actively avoid Draco which was - surprisingly enough - not as easy as you thought. Somehow he was almost always at least in your near vicinity. Besides the obvious factors of class (where you tried to focus on working and on praying whatever Ginny had planned wouldn‘t happen) and when you were eating in the great hall (where you had resorted to sitting at the very end of the table as far away from him as possible) he seemed to also be there in your free time. You were relaxing in the common room? He was there reading a book. You were outside with Harry and co.? Guess who’s coming their way to insult them (while not saying a single bad thing about you). By now there were just about three places where you were sure that he wouldn’t be able to pop up at any given moment. Your room, the bathroom and the potions classroom on Wednesday and Friday afternoon when class has already ended. After Snape had realized that he had some real potions-potential sitting in front of him he offered you extra credit as some sort of teaching assistant which basically meant that you helped him prepare lessons, helped him grade the first to third years tests and that you cleaned up and organized the potions classroom twice a week. Now usually, knowing that you were more than capable of handling the potions and ingredients standing around on your own after having seen you do it for a few months, you‘d be alone while you cleaned up except for the occasional visit of your professor to tell you which ingredients you should put on the students desks for the next class, but for some reason the next Friday - three days after Ginny had made her promise to you - the door already stood open and you could hear Professor Snape talking to someone. “I really expected better of you, your action is the reasons Slytherin has lost 50 housepoints and I hope you know that it is on you to gain them back, no matter your status,“ Snape‘s voice carried to where you stood and you wondered who the student was if Snape went so easy on them with his lecture. Usually you‘d be afraid for your life after losing even ten house points so getting such a calm reaction for 50 must‘ve really meant something. Your questions about the identity of the student were answered when you entered the dungeon room and immediately felt yourself freeze. Of course not even you (time dependent) sanctuary was safe anymore. Of course Draco just had to stand there and look at you without any identifiable emotion in his gaze. “Ah, Miss Hagrid, right on time as always,“ Snape nodded after he also noticed you and you felt slightly more at ease knowing that with him there nothing could really happen. “Should I come back later?” you asked politely, not sure if you had interrupted something. “No, you may stay. Mister Malfoy over here has got himself caught trying to sabotage McGonagall class, a childish act which I would’ve expected of the Weasleys but really not from you. As a punishment he will be the one to clean the potions classroom bi-weekly from now on until he has regained the house points lost. You’ll supervise him.” “I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure I understand.” “Malfoy will do all the cleaning but since he has no experience with it I can’t just leave him alone so, since you’d be here anyway, you can watch him and make sure that everything goes orderly.“ It wasn‘t really a question as much as a command, something that you were used to from Snape, so you just nodded and bid him goodbye as he went to his office, leaving you and Draco behind. By now you had seen through what was happening. This was Ginny‘s plan. Somehow she must‘ve managed to blame Malfoy for the prank on McGonagall - something rather extreme given the taken house points- hoping (or somehow knowing) that his punishment would force you to spend at least an hour with him alone in a dimmed room twice a week. Inwardly you cursed your friend, while outwardly you tried everything to avoid directly looking at Draco as you explained his tasks to him before you sat down at your usual place and pulled out a book really hoping you could get him to not talk to you that way. Either your plan was working great or Draco just really didn‘t care for you, because an hour later you still hadn‘t exchanged any words, instead he dutifully, but slightly pouting, had done his job while you shot him the occasional glance to make sure he was doing it correctly. “I think that was all, you should be good to go now,“ you told him with a small smile, relieved that you were finally free to leave the room and with that the tension that had built up inside you as a mix of nervousness and fear. Draco had opened his mouth to respond when a third year came rushing inside with at least twelve books in her arms that almost towered over her which she quickly placed on a table, slightly out of breath. “Professor Snape sent me. He said these have to be sorted and put away.” You could probably feel Draco’s sigh before he had made it and - not really fond of spending more time so frustratingly close to your crush and yet so far - you just nodded and told both of them that you’d take care of it and that they could leave, which both promptly did. You took the books and carried them to the back of the room where a sole, old bookshelf was standing - since the students mostly had their own books - and started putting them away when you heard a sickening crunch before suddenly the shelf including books came crashing down at you and before you could even think to pull out your wand, the world turned black.

“I’m so so so sorry, you were right I shouldn’t have interfered, if I’d just listened to you you wouldn‘t be lying here now,“ Ginny whined from beside your bed where she had been sitting for the past twenty minutes apologizing over and over again and blaming herself for the broken arm, leg and the concussion that had you unable to leave the infirmary for the next three days to a week. “Ginny, how often do I gotta tell you, it isn’t your fault! I would’ve sorted those books in anyways - no matter if you had pulled that prank or not - and it would’ve fallen anyways,” you tried to reassure her and gave her a soft smile. “But-“ “No but, okay? We can’t change the past anyways, and even if we could I wouldn’t because thanks to you, I don’t have to take that stupid DADA test.” Your attempt to lighten the mood seemed to work, because soon you and Ginny were back to your usual conversation-style and it relieved you immensely. It made you feel okay again. She was just telling you of a stung Harry had pulled in the Gryffindor Common room when she suddenly paused mid sentence and looked up. You followed her eyes to where they were placed firmly on a certain Platinum blond boy that looked simultaneously like he’d rather be everywhere else and like he was glad to be there, it was a sight to see. “I think I’ll leave for now, I’ll come back later with tons of sweets that Luna and I are going to steal from Harry’s personal stash,” Ginny said goodbye and gave you a wink as she walked away making you torn between wanting to roll your eyes and feeling yourself blush. Unsure of what to do next you motioned to the chair that Ginny had just occupied and Draco seemed to get the hint because he quickly sat down. “Hey-“ “Hi-“ “Sorry, you first.” “No it’s fine, you’re injured, you go first.” “Well, uhm-“ you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, “-I wanted to thank you, for bringing me here I mean, Madame Pomfrey told me you carried me all the way.” You looked away hoping that he wouldn’t see how nervous you were. “You don’t need to thank me, I couldn’t just let you lay there buried under books, your not Granger after all,” he said, seemingly trying to joke but immediately noticed that it was probably not the best thing to say given that you and Hermione were good friends. “Listen, what I came here for,” now it was Draco’s turn to take a deep breath, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something, but you were always with Potter or avoiding me or whatever, but after I saw you lying there… I guess I was just worried for you, I really don’t want you to get hurt.” Now that definitely caught your attention. For a second you played with the thought that this could possibly not be Malfoy but just someone else playing him with the help of polyjuice potion because he was definitely not acting like himself, but something in his word convinced you otherwise. “Thanks, I think, but would you mind me asking why? I mean...we’re not really the closest of friends,” you asked him, looking directly into his face to search signs of a possible answer. “Fuck it, I like you, okay? Happy?” You were completely stunned. Stunned, speechless, shocked. In all the time that you had been crushing on him you had never even really considered even the slightest possibility that he could reciprocate your feelings but now here he was telling you straight up. “You-You like me? Like like-like me?” You asked, just really wanting to be sure. There was a hint of nervousness and worry in his eyes, but he hid it behind a wall of annoyance. “You heard me, didn’t you? So, just get it over with, do you like me too or do you not, because if you don’t then I don’t want to waste my time any longer.” This definitely sounded more like the Draco you were used to and you had to giggle a little bit. “Yes, yes I like you too,” you confessed and like it was the most natural thing in the world you moved the uninjured hand over to where he laid on your bed and took it in yours. For the moment, you were caught in the shimmer of happiness and glee at having your crush there with you, definitely something more than your crush, and it would probably take a while until you‘d realize that there were some interesting things to follow, like telling your uncle about this for example...